


Stars in Her Eyes

by hotchoco195



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - Noir, F/M, Femme Fatale, Gen, Gunplay, Jealousy, Minor Character Death, Missing Persons, Mystery, POV First Person, Revenge, Rivalry, Secrets, Short Chapters, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the middle of a slow summer, and Barton needs a case. But as LA continues to heat up, can our favourite detective find the girl, catch the bad guy and keep himself in one piece?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't listed the relationships or used any archive warnings because I don't wanna give anything away, but there won't be anything extreme trigger-wise, just genre-standard levels of violence and intrigue.

It was a scorcher, another balmy July day with the sun glaring through my bare office windows and my collar loose around my neck to let some air in. I was leaning back in my squeaky old chair with my feet on the desk and a cigarette hanging loosely between my fingers. There were no clients; everyone with any sense was staying indoors. I debated whether or not to pour myself an early drink and decided it would only make me hotter. I got up and went to the far window, tugging the latch even though it had been painted shut since I moved in. The only way I could catch a breeze was to break the damn thing, and I didn’t have the money to fix it afterwards.

The elevator down the hall dinged, which wasn’t so unusual. But then the footsteps stopped outside my door, and there was a soft knock. I straightened with a frown.

“It’s open.”

The door opened an inch at a time on a nice-looking dame who held her purse nervously. I don’t mean she was cute, though she was handsome enough – she looked nice, like someone’s wife with the pastel dress and matching hat. She also didn’t look like she was suffering in the heat, her cheeks pale, blonde hair pulled back neatly.

“Is this the detective’s office?” she asked, trying to put some steel in it that didn’t match the way her mouth twitched at the corner.

“Hawkeye Investigations, that’s me.”

“ _You’re_ the detective?” she arched a brow.

I looked around. The place was a bit shabby, only wide enough for my desk and a couple of filing cabinets, the chairs tattered at the edges. I did up my collar button, adjusting my tie.

“Most days. Clint Barton.” I said.

“Sounds made up.” She sniffed, running her eyes over the office.

“Well technically it’s Clinton, but what’s a couple of letters between friends?”

“Are we friends now, Mr Barton?”

“If you’re here to offer me business, then we’re on the right track. What can I do for you, Mrs...”

“It’s Miss. Sharon Carter.” She offered her hand.

I shook it casually, respectful without acting like she was made of glass, and waved her towards a seat. “What can I do for you, Miss Carter?”

She inspected the cushion and stuck her lip out unhappily, but she sat. I walked back to my spot behind the desk, clasping my hands on the blotter with an attentive look.

“I need you to find someone. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Depending on the circumstances, yeah, but it’s usually pretty straightforward. Who are you after – tenant who skipped out, old boyfriend, long-lost daddy?”

She opened her purse and took out a photo, sliding it across to me. I picked it up. It was a girl, only just out of school by the looks of her, with long carefree curls and a real curvy figure. She was smiling like she had a great joke to tell. She looked fun.

“My sister, Darcy Lewis. She’s only nineteen.”

“I gotta say, you two don’t look much alike.”

“My father died in the War, and Mother couldn’t afford to stay a widow.”

“Not in those days,” I agreed, “So you’re half-sisters.”

“Does it make a difference?” she snapped, lips pursed.

“Just tryin’ to gauge how close you are.”

“She’s the baby,” Miss Carter shrugged, “I’ve spent practically my whole life chasing after her.”

“But you get along?”

“Oh sure. Darcy doesn’t dislike anyone. That’s part of the problem.”

“She’s missing?”

“Hasn’t been home in ten days,” she folded her arms, “That’s not like her. She goes off sometimes, yes, but never longer than a night. She’s too used to me looking after her to survive on her own.”

“When did you last see her?”

“Saturday before last. I was reading in the den and she came in and kissed my cheek and said good night. She was being picked up for some big party at the Stark estate.”

“Stark?” my brows shot up.

“You know him?”

“Everybody in America knows Tony Stark. He’s the richest man in L.A., and that’s sayin’ a lot.”

“Well he also likes to splash that money around and entertain at his place all summer. Darcy was invited to a couple of events before this one, and she always came back raving about the way Stark tossed his wealth in people’s faces like it meant nothing.”

“I’ve heard he likes a good time.”

Miss Carter set her lips together tightly. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression of my sister. She’s a little wild, but we raised her right. She’s not one of Stark’s show pony girls – I wouldn’t allow it.”

“Mr Stark’s a very persuasive man.”

“Darcy knows better than that. She might like her fun but she still remembers herself enough to stay out of real trouble.”

“Until now?”

“She never came back from the party. I waited a day or two and then went to the police, but they’ve found nothing.”

“They spoke to Stark?”

“Supposedly.”

“You don’t trust them to do their jobs?”

She sniffed. “You do?”

I waved my hands dismissively. “I know a couple of cops. They’re not all bad.”

“Well they haven’t found my sister, and I’m not going to wait while they tiptoe around Tony Stark. I want you to find her and get her home to me. I’ve got a little saved up and I can afford $15 a day plus expenses. I know it’s not much but-”

“I’ll take your case.”

“Really?” she brightened.

“Yeah. Stark’s the kinda guy who wants to avoid scandal; he should be nice and cooperative to anyone not wearing a uniform.”

I didn’t tell her I was pretty sure her sister had found some accommodating rich guy and been whisked off to play house with him without thinking to call; Miss Carter seemed determined to hold onto her illusions about Darcy’s manners, and I wasn’t going to tell a client to stop paying me.

“Have you spoken to Stark?”

She shook her head.

“Ever met him?”

“No.”

“How did Darcy know him?”

“She wants to be an actress,” Miss Carter said, “She goes to auditions and never gets the job but she gets invited to a lot of parties. They met at one of those. I don’t think they knew each other terribly well though.”

“Who sent the car for her that night?”

“A studio casting agent. I don’t know his name.”

“What was she wearing?”

She gave me a quick description that I jotted down in my notepad and took a couple of twenties out of her purse, handing them over.

“This should cover the first few days. There’s a card there with my number, if you find anything.”

“I’ll get right on it, Miss Carter.”

She stood. “I hope to have some good news soon, Mr Barton.”

“You and me both.”

She nodded curtly and left, the door closing with a click behind her. I rolled down my shirt sleeves and put on my jacket, grabbing my hat off its hook. I picked up the photo of Darcy and slipped it in my pocket. I had an appointment with Tony Stark.


	2. Chapter 2

I stopped my dusty Ford at tall iron gates that wouldn’t have been out of place in a graveyard. There was a little guard station built into the outer wall and the guy leaned over to inspect me with a wary glower, his piece straining against the fabric of his blazer.

“Name?”

“Barton,” I handed over one of my cards, “I have a few questions for Mr Stark.”

“You got an appointment?”

“Not as such.”

“Beat it.” He crumpled the card in one meaty fist.

“It’s about Darcy Lewis.”

He stopped, frowning. I could see him thinking about it for a minute, then he shook his head.

“Wait here.”

He closed the booth’s window and picked up a phone, dialling carefully. He said something, and then listened for a minute, glancing at me from time to time. I smiled back. Eventually he hung up and opened the window.

“You can go up.”

“Thanks pal.”

The gates swung inwards and I puttered through. The drive up to Stark’s house was like a small boulevard, the road pointing straight between rows of tall palms. The house was more of a mansion anyway, one of those big proper two-storey places with a couple of wings and a pool and the grounds all lush and well-kept. I wasn’t fool enough to park at the main entrance; I went around the corner instead and stopped by a separate building that was probably the garage. There was a smaller portico on that side of the house and I knocked on the door, standing back with my thumbs in my pockets.

A reedy older man opened it, his suit old-fashioned with a full waist-coat and tails. He was even wearing white gloves. When he spoke his accent was crisp, polished and pure English.

“You are Mr Barton?”

“Yeah.”

“I am Jarvis, Mr Stark’s butler. If you’ll follow me?”

I expected him to lead me into the house but instead he held out an arm, pointing to the far corner. We walked around the gravel courtyard and rounded the wall. There was a big paved deck that wrapped around the back of the house and some steps leading down to a pool area. I could see a guy under the water, doing laps by the look of it.

Another heavy like the gatekeeper stepped into my path, hands clasped before him.

“You will of course have no objections to Happy checking you for weapons?” Jarvis titled his head.

“Of course not.”

I smiled nice and held my arms out while the big guy patted me down, throwing the butler a wink. Happy stood up and grunted.

“He’s clean.”

“Then I leave him in your capable hands.” Jarvis turned and went back into the house.

I followed the muscle downstairs just as the swimmer climbed out, dripping water. Stark was younger than you’d expect and good looking, his swim trunks leaving no doubt about what kind of shape he was in. He smiled with pure devilment and picked up a towel, drying his face.

“Mr Barton. I don’t usually take callers who show up unannounced.”

“Then why did you take me?”

“Perhaps you were just lucky to catch me in a good mood. Or perhaps you knew the right thing to say.”

“Darcy Lewis?”

He finished towelling off and pulled on a burgundy silk robe, tying it shut. “I’ve been hearing that name a lot lately.”

“You know her?”

“I wouldn’t say we were close. I know a lot of ladies’ names.”

“Well this one’s missing.”

“So they tell me. Honestly, I don’t know a thing about it.”

“Mind if I ask you a few questions all the same?”

He gave a cheerless laugh, looking me over incredulously. “I already spoke to the officers from Missing Persons.”

“I’m not a cop. I’ve been employed by Miss Lewis’ sister to look into the matter. She doesn’t trust the official channels to get her answers with any great haste.”

“I have complete faith in our police, don’t you Mr Barton?”

I chuckled. “Maybe we have different history with the law, Mr Stark. See from my experience, something like this could turn into a real scandal. So you’ll have your boys looking into it quietly, while your friends at the department sit back and play ignorant.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you, Mr Barton.” He said, more amused than offended.

“I’m not looking to stick my nose in your business any further than I have to, sir. So if you could answer my questions I’ll take my looking elsewhere and leave you to your exercise.”

He regarded me silently for a minute before sitting in a wicker lounge chair, crossing his legs at the ankle.

“I know Darcy a little, saw her at a couple of my shindigs. She’s big with the Hollywood crowd – not the A-list, that’s for sure, but she’s pretty and likes a good laugh so she’s popular enough.”

“You two ever speak?”

“Half a dozen times, Barton,” he smiled brightly, “It’s called being a sociable host.”

“Enough to know anything about her?”

“Not really. She said she lived with family, wasn’t seeing anyone seriously as far as I knew. She was always on someone’s arm but never the same guy.”

“You think she was…” I rolled my hand suggestively.

“Sleepin’ around? God no. If she was she wouldn’t be spending her days auditioning, would she? No, she could have had it easy but she seemed to be a good girl.”

“You saw her at the party Saturday before last?”

“Yeah. She looked good, and I tend to notice that.”

“What was the party for?”

“Why would I need a reason to have a party?” he smirked.

I snorted quietly, nodding. “Did she arrive with anyone?”

“Yeah, little studio prick. Happy, what’s that little prick’s name? The one from MGM.”

“Killian.” The bodyguard grumbled.

“Right, Killian! He was tryin’ to make moves but she wasn’t too interested, from what I saw. Kept brushing him off to talk to other people.”

“Was he sore about it?”

Stark laughed. “I don’t think he could tear his eyes off her chest long enough to notice she was looking at anyone else.”

“Did they leave together?”

“No. Killian ended up passed out in my pool house and didn’t stumble home til Sunday morning.”

“When was the last time you say Miss Lewis?”

“Uh, about eleven? She was by the bar with a couple of other wannabe starlets.”

“You got names?”

Happy growled behind me and I flashed him a smile.

“Sir.”

Stark looked thoughtful. “I think one of them was Natalie Rushman? Not sure about the other.”

“What about your staff?” my eyes flicked to Mr Happy, “Any of them see her?”

“She didn’t draw any special attention, no.”

“Any idea how she left if her date was unconscious in your backyard?”

Stark raised a brow like I was a moron. “A cab? There were dozens of ‘em here at the end of the night.”

A door opened above us and a gal stepped out of the house. She was fancier than most, her dress probably hand-made for her by one of the stores in West Hollywood. There were diamonds in her ears and a double string of pearls around her neck, but it was all very classy and understated. She looked glamourous, but it seemed easy and natural. Her hair was a soft red, pinned up at the base of her neck, and she looked older than the type I expected to see around Stark.

“Tony?” she stopped when she saw me.

“It’s fine, Pep. Mr Barton and I were finished, weren’t we?”

“I think I’ve got something to run with. I might be in touch, Mr Stark.”

“I doubt it. Happy will walk you out.”

I nodded, tugging the brim of my hat at him, and climbed the stairs. The woman was still watching me uncertainly, so I offered a hand.

“Clint Barton, private detective. Mr Stark is assisting me on a case.”

“Oh, that poor girl the police were asking about? I hope nothing’s happened to her,” she shook, “I’m Pepper, Tony’s fiancée.”

“I didn’t know he was engaged.”

“It’s recent. We’re trying to keep the tabloids out of it as long as possible.”

“Well, congratulations then. Did you know Miss Lewis?”

“I didn’t, I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”

“No problem, miss. I’m sure she’ll turn up somewhere, right as rain.”

“You’ll let us know if you find her?” she smiled warmly.

“I’ll make sure to give you a call.”

She walked past to join Stark and the muscle cleared his throat, ushering me back towards the car. I threw a last glance over my shoulder as we rounded the corner, Stark and his girl both watching me go.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve Rogers was blond and broad like a Santa Monica sunset. He was young for a captain but that wouldn’t last long; the job was already making lines on his face. He was sitting at his desk when I came in, but he looked up and gave me a smile that could have used a good night’s sleep.

“Clint Barton.”

“Good to see ya, captain.” I shook his hand.

“I wish I had the time to see you more often.” He said.

“They keepin’ you busy around here?”

He gestured at a stack of folders. “It never ends. I take it this is no social call?”

“Hey, if you wanna go down the street to the diner and get a cup of joe and some lunch, I won’t say no.”

He sighed. “Better not. What can I do for you?”

“I’m on a case.”

“Good,” he smiled, “You could use a wash and a new jacket.”

“Ha ha,” I rolled my eyes, “Missing girl. I want to know if your guys have found anything.”

“What was the name?”

“Darcy Lewis.”

His mood cooled. He leaned back in his chair, eyes going leery as his mouth screwed shut. “I can’t get into that, Clint.”

“Sure you can. You’re head of Missing Persons, right? Who else would I turn to for help but my old friend and resident expert on disappearances?”

“If you’re half as good as I know you are, then you know why we can’t discuss it.”

“Tony Stark,” I leaned forward on the desk, “I already spoke to him.”

“Jesus!” he scowled, “You just can’t stay out of trouble, can ya?”

“Not when there are pretty girls involved.”

He huffed, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. I caught his eye and his frown got worse.

“Stark’s got weight in this town. I know he’s hamstringing your investigation while he tries to clean up whatever mess he’s in. Let me do your runnin’ around for ya.”

“This case is complicated enough without you getting involved.”

“Come on, Stevie. I’m already in it now. Tell me what you guys have.”

He grimaced at me but took a folder from the bottom of the stack, opening it between us. “Darcy Lewis, aspiring actress. Vanished after a party at the Stark estate.”

“Yeah. Stark said she was talking to a couple of other girls last he saw.”

“That’s what he told us too – lady named Bobbi Morse and one he wasn’t sure about. We found Morse and she gave us the other name, a Natalie Rushman. We couldn’t find her.”

I raised my brows real slow, letting out a whistle. “Convenient.”

“Morse said Rushman had definitely spoken to her since the party though, so doesn’t look like she and Miss Lewis disappeared together. She just hasn’t been home when we’ve called.”

“Did Miss Morse have anything useful about Darcy?”

Rogers consulted his papers. “She said they were chattin’ about some upcoming auditions, and then Darcy walked off towards the den. She didn’t see her again.”

“Can we find out who was in the den?”

“There’s no map of people’s movements, Clint. It was a party – everyone was drifting around where they pleased. Even if we could get a full guest list, it would take days to interview everyone, and half of ‘em aren’t reliable witnesses anyway.”

“Okay, okay. Did you find anything interesting on the girl?”

“Not really. She lives with her sister, they get along fine, no money troubles in the house since their parents died. No boyfriend, no fiancée, no previous trouble with the law.”

“She sounds a little too perfect.”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe. Even if Stark hadn’t asked us to keep it quiet, no one in the department’s taking it too seriously, given that she’s young and associating with those kinds of people. I think the general opinion is she’s eloped or somethin’.”

“What do you think?”

“I think…” he studied the report, “I think she doesn’t have the right history for it. She might be the type to fall in love fast but I don’t think she’d run off with a guy, especially without calling home at some point. But I don’t see who would wanna make her disappear either – there’s no motive for something like that.”

“Jealous rival? Spurned date?” I said.

“She’d have to have had something for them to be jealous of.”

“Looks?”

“There are plenty of gorgeous dames in L.A. None of the others are missing.”

“Okay, so the other option then. I heard she switched out her escorts pretty regularly. Maybe one of ‘em took offence?”

“It’s certainly the best idea we’ve got.”

I took out my smokes and lit one, pinching it in my lips. “Spoken to a man called Killian?”

“Aldrich Killian, yeah. He works at MGM, met Darcy on the lot and invited her to the party. He got himself sauced and slept it off in the poolhouse. I confirmed it with Bobbi Morse – she said Darcy was unimpressed.”

“I’ll take his details, if you’ve got ‘em there.”

“I can’t give that out, Clint.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“If Stark hears I’m helping you investigate something we’ve been warned off, I won’t be in a position to help you again.”

“You’re gonna let that pretty boy tell you how to do your job? He’s probably covering up his own part in it!”

“You think I don’t hate this?” he growled, jaw clenched, “I didn’t get into this business to sit on my hands and let crooks walk. But if I don’t play ball, they’ll find someone who will.”

“So it’s okay to let the big fish get away?”

Steve jolted out of his chair. “I think it’s time you were on your way.”

I got up lazily, taking a drag of my cigarette and blowing it next to his face. “Yeah, guess it is.”

I started towards the door, when a quiet word stopped me.

“I wish I could help you, bud.”

I glanced back. “Once upon a time you wouldn’t have hesitated. Guess everyone’s a slave to the dollar after all.”

I expected a punch or a yell, but he just looked sad as I closed the door. I think it was worse that way.


	4. Chapter 4

I had two new stops on my schedule: Aldrich Killian, and the elusive Natalie Rushman – if I could find either of them. I ducked into the diner near the police station and found their directory, scribbling out the addresses. I gave the dame a ring and got bupkis, so I tried Killian. No one answered there either. I called the studio, glancing around the restaurant while I waited.

“Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, this is Bernadette.”

“Hi there, I’m looking for Mr Aldrich Killian?”

She paused.

“I’m sorry, he’s not in today sir. Can I take a message?”

“That’s alright doll, I’ll try him at home.”

I hung up and headed back to my car. So he wasn’t at his place, and he wasn’t at the office. Maybe he’d pulled a fast one and skipped town? I decided it was worth the drive up to Beverley Hills to find out.

Killian’s place wasn’t mixed in with the movie stars and athletes, but it was still nice. He had a little bungalow between a couple of slick apartment buildings with hedgerows and discreet shaded windows; the kind of place a studio man might stash his mistress. Killian’s house didn’t have any big fence but it was set back from the road with a lot of nice trees out front, the branches hanging low around the eaves. I parked a couple of houses down just in case and doubled back, following the stepping stone path to the front door.

It was open. I didn’t like that. I walked around the trees to the driveway. It was empty, the garage doors shut. I peered in through the window and saw a shiny red convertible, partly covered with a sheet. I went back to my car and opened the toolbox tucked on the floor between the front seats. It carried my emergency gear: torch, rope, pocket knife, spade, and my six-shot Colt. I tucked it into my waistband and tried the front door again, easing it open with my hand already on the gun.

It was a big open lounge room with a bar and some sliding glass doors out to a wooden deck and a stretch of lawn. The furniture was set up for parties, all the chairs and sofas pushed to the edges of the room, lots of side tables for putting down a drink. The carpet was white, which just seemed stupid to me. I guess guys like Killian could afford someone else to clean it.

I crossed the room as quiet as I could. One archway led into a dining room with a table for sixteen, which in turn led into a shiny mahogany and chromium kitchen. I backtracked and followed a second smaller arch down a corridor with a powder room and a study, and then finally a closed door.

“Housekeeping!”

There was no answer, no sound at all. I pulled the sleeve of my jacket down over my hand before I twisted the door knob, nudging it open as I drew my weapon. It was a bedroom, heavy beige drapes closed over the windows with more of that white carpet on the floor. This time it wasn’t spotless though; there was a blotchy red-brown patch fanning out around Aldrich Killian’s head.

I’d never seen a picture of the man but I guessed it was him, given that all he was wearing was a green velvet bathrobe. His hair was a weird yellow, the tips crusted with blood, and what I could see of him looked spindly and covered in liver spots and blemishes. Definitely not the sort of guy to inspire someone as sweet as Darcy Lewis to fits of romance.

I swept a glance over the room to make sure we didn’t have company, but there was no one. No obvious weapons either, but as I inched closer I could see more blood on the corner of the nightstand next to Killian’s body. He was lying between the bed and the bathroom door, feet hanging over the threshold onto the tiles. If he’d slipped, there were no puddles there now.

I stuck my Colt back in my trousers and had a quick look around. The bed was unmade, and had recently held two if the red hairs on the pillow were any indication. There were no signs a woman lived there though, no perfume or hairbrushes or clothes, not even an errant stocking. There was a glass of water on the nightstand near Killian, and I lifted the rim to my nose and sniffed. It smelled sweet.

I went to the kitchen to see if anyone had made a start on breakfast but the dishes were all clean and dry in the rack. I counted two plates, two bowls and two martini glasses. The unfortunate guy clearly had company the night before, but whoever she was she’d made tracks before his accident – if it was an accident. I doubted it; the whole thing seemed a little too conveniently timed. Someone had sure gone to a lot of effort to make it look innocent though, someone professional. That smelt like Stark. But why would he off Killian? What could the guy have known or done to pose a threat? Maybe he hadn’t been passed out, which meant Bobbi Morse was a liar too for confirming Stark’s story. Unless Killian was simply the unlucky guy who walked in on Darcy’s arm and made an easy patsy for someone else’s misdeeds?

Which told me Darcy Lewis was probably already dead. No point pinning something on Killian if there was nothing to pin. The hairs on his pillow were too red to be hers.

I checked the house one last time for anything I might have missed, then let myself out and shut the front door. I got back in the car, put my gun away, and drove down the street until I found a drug store. The pay phone was in a dusty corner between a display of nylons and the liquor counter, and I rubbed a thumb across my forehead as I listened to it ring.

“Captain Steve Rogers.”

“Stevie, I’ve got some bad news for you.”

*****

I drove to Bobbi Morse’s, where her roommate told me she was down at the local salon getting her hair done. I climbed back into my car, thinking that Sharon Carter was going to owe me a lot more for expenses with all this driving around.

When I got to the beauty place and picked her out of the lineup of girls sitting under the dryers, I immediately understood why Stark called her a wannabe star. She wasn’t much of an actress.

“It’s just like I told the officers,” she batted her lashes at me, “Aldie had too much to drink and fell asleep, and Darcy was real cross about it.”

“You didn’t see either of them again after that?” I leaned my hand on the back of her chair.

She shook her head, rollers bobbing about. “Darcy went down the hall and I got a cab home with one of the chorus girls from Paramount.”

“How about earlier in the night – did you see them fighting, or Darcy flirting with anyone else?”

“Darcy flirted with lots of people, but she was just friendly, ya know? They seemed okay though.”

“Did you see Killian talk to any other women?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes brightly. “Well of course, dummy! It was a party. Everyone was talking.”

“But Darcy didn’t mention anything was bothering her?”

“No. She seemed happy.”

“How about a woman with red hair? I mean real bright, scarlet sorta hair. Did you see one of them near Killian, or Darcy?”

Bobbi frowned. “Well, Natalie has red hair.”

“Natalie Rushman?”

“Yeah. We were all at the bar.”

“I’ve been having some trouble getting hold of her. Would you be able to clue me in? Where does she like to hang out?”

Bobbi reached down beside the chair and grabbed her handbag, rustling around until she pulled out a matchbox and handed it to me.

“She spends a lot of time rehearsing down at the Oyster Lounge. She sings there some nights.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time, detective.” She blushed at me.

It was too late by then to chase up the matchbook; the bar would be opening soon, so chances were Natalie Rushman wouldn’t be around until late if she showed at all, and I didn’t really want to charge in and try to get her alone in a room full of glitzy types and security. I went home instead, tucking myself in with two shots of whisky and a faint hope that maybe I was wrong about Darcy, but I didn’t really believe it.


	5. Chapter 5

The Oyster Lounge was popular with a decadent crowd, but during the day it seemed shabby and cheap. The lights were too bright and the floor was questionably sticky. An old black barman in a shiny waistcoat was drying tumblers while a boy who looked about ten swept the carpet. At the back of the room there was a stage surrounded by tables, with a piano and a microphone. Someone who might have been the barkeep’s son sat at the keys, softly keeping time for the redhead as she sang.

She was a looker. In a town full of beautiful women, she stood out. Her hair was ruby red, her lips painted to match, and her skin was milky perfection. She wore a mint green blouse and a lavender skirt, both of them tight enough to show me her curves. They were good ones. Her voice had a rough, smoky edge to it. I got closer and the barman lifted his head.

“Hey, we’re closed.”

“I just need to talk to the lady.”

He glared at me but I put on my nice face and sailed right past, coming near the stage. From that distance I could see her eyes were green and wicked, her cheekbones dangerously fine. She noticed me watching and smiled, the expression creeping over her face invitingly. She stopped singing, waving a hand at her partner.

“Let’s take a break, Lou.”

He got up and headed backstage. She held out a hand and I took it, steadying her as she stepped down off the platform. She didn’t let go.

“Well hi there, handsome. What did you think?”

“I’m thinking it’s a damn crime we haven’t met earlier.”

“I’m here three nights a week.”

“I’m not a regular.”

She dropped her voice to a pseudo-whisper. “Bit out of your racket?”

“I prefer the company and prestige of my very own apartment. But now it seems like a shame.”

“Did you come here to charm me on a whim, or do you have other business? Not that I’m complaining.”

“My name’s Clint Barton, and I’m a private dick. I need to talk to you about the party you attended Saturday before last at Stark’s place.”

She dropped my hand, shaking her head as she walked over to a table and sat down. “Of course – they’re never interested in me, just whether or not I’ll sing for them.”

I sat opposite her and took out my cigarette case, shaking two loose and handing her one. She leaned in while I lit a match and held it to the end, before lighting my own. “Don’t mistake me, Miss Rushman. I’m very interested. But I’m on the clock.”

“Good,” she smirked, “For a minute there I was worried I’d lost my appeal.”

“You’re hard to get hold of.”

“I keep myself busy.” She flashed a smile.

“What can you tell me about Darcy Lewis?”

“Darcy?” she wrinkled her nose, “She’s a perky little nobody. Fresh out of school with a head still full of ideals and dreams of being a star.”

“You don’t sound too fond of her.”

“Oh she’s harmless. We’ve met at a few things and always got along fine. I just don’t have much time for dreams. Or ideals.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” I said.

“Hmm…it was at the party, late. Almost midnight, I suppose.”

“How was her mood?”

“Chipper as always. She gets these huge wide eyes whenever she sees anyone famous.”

“Any idea what happened to Darcy after you finished speaking?”

“I think she headed for the study or the library or the den - one of those bookish places, Stark’s got half a dozen. Why? Is she in trouble?” she asked flatly, no concern creeping into her tone.

“She’s missing.”

Her eyes widened prettily. “Gosh. Has someone told the police?”

“Sure. They’re workin’ on it, in theory. Mind if I ask what were you doing at the party?”

“Miss Potts likes my voice. She comes here with Stark sometimes, and I get invites up to the estate.”

“Private invites?”

“No. A small Stark dinner is still about forty people.” She said.

“Do you know Aldrich Killian?”

“Not personally. Darcy mentioned he was her date, but he was already counting sheep by then.”

“He’s dead.”

She looked surprised, enough that I believed it was real. “Christ. That’s awful.”

“You said you didn’t know him.”

“So I should be happy about it?”

“Sorry. But you’ll forgive me being suspicious,” I said, “Aldrich dead and Darcy missing…things look shady.”

“You don’t think she could have done it?” Natalie scoffed, “She was meek as a kitten. No, if I were you I’d drop this case, Mr Barton. Darcy’s probably fine.”

“Despite appearances?”

“Girls her age follow their hearts, not their heads. She’ll turn up.”

It sounded like the same junk Stark had tried to sell me. I leaned in, keeping my eyes on hers.

“Miss Rushman, are you afraid of Tony Stark?”

“Should I be?” she bit her bottom lip mischievously.

“He’s rich, lots of powerful friends, and you just said he’s a personal patron. He could make your life difficult if you didn’t stick to the party line.”

“I’m telling you the truth, Clint. I honestly think Darcy will show up next week, sunny as ever.”

“What makes you so sure?” I said.

She looked around for a moment, eying the guys working up front, and moved her chair closer until our arms were touching.

“Promise you won’t go shooting your mouth off around town?”

“Depends on what you’re about to say.”

“Darcy was seeing someone.”

“Everyone said she wasn’t the type to get serious.”

“She didn’t like to talk about it, not even to us girls – and maybe that was smart of her. But there were a couple of things she mentioned that just stuck in my brain.”

“Why would she be out with other men if she had a sweetheart?” I said.

“That’s the Hollywood game, honey. Would explain why she wasn’t telling everybody about it either – the studio heads don’t like competition.”

“Alright. Who’s the guy?”

“She never told me so herself, okay? But I saw her three weeks ago at the Acacia Ballroom while I was singing for one of their dinners, and she was sitting with a dark-haired man in a suit. I couldn’t see his face from the stage. Then a couple of days before the party at Stark’s, I was shopping near Venice and Lincoln and she got out of a silver Phantom a few buildings away. I didn’t see the driver but the other passenger was a dark-haired man, and I’d stake a lot of money it was the same one. Now the only person I know who regularly drives a Phantom and has dark hair is Justin Hammer.”

“Of Hammer Industries?”

“Yeah.”

“Stark’s biggest rival.”

“If you can even put them in the same league.” She curled her lip.

“You think they were seeing each other?”

“Why not? She’s cute, he’s rich. He probably made some promise to get her a leading role.”

“But everyone who knows her says she doesn’t trade on her looks to get work.”

“I don’t know then. I’m not very good at love, but I think sometimes people just find each other and it’s like wham!” she clapped her hands, “You know?”

“So your official position is that Miss Lewis is most likely off playing house with Justin Hammer?”

“I’d say it’s worth checking out.”

“Thanks for the tip.” I stubbed out my cigarette in the table ashtray and stood.

“Here’s a second for free. You should come by and see me perform one night.”

“I might take you up on that.”

She blew me a kiss and I touched the brim of my hat, walking out with a nod to the barkeep. I wasn’t sure I trusted her – in fact I was damn sure I didn’t. There was something about her that said she had secrets. But they weren’t necessarily related to my case, and she’d even given me something to go on with. If it panned out I might have a real lead.

And the hairs on Killian’s pillow? Well there were other redheads in Los Angeles.


	6. Chapter 6

I couldn’t talk my way into Hammer’s office looking like a P.I. so I headed back to my place to get my good suit. It was a graduation present from my brother Barney and I only take it out when I need to blend in with the fat cats.  I changed and slicked my hair back with a bit of water, switching out my tie for a silk one. I was about to put my hat back on when there was a knock.

Any other day I’d have just called them in, but this was the day after I’d discovered a dead guy on his bedroom floor. I crossed to my desk and sat, taking a little Browning out of the top drawer and holding it below the edge of the table.

“Come in.”

Sharon Carter opened the door, wearing a dainty yellow dress with a white hat and pumps. I cursed and put the gun on the desktop, startling her.

“I’m sorry – did I interrupt something?”

“You’re fine, doll. I’m just letting my nerves get to me like a fool.”

“Oh. Are you in danger? Is it about Darcy?”

“I’m just paranoid – occupational hazard, but it’s kept me alive this long. What can I do for you?”

“I have some more information you might find useful.” She said.

I put the gun back in my drawer and stood, rounding the desk with a frown. “I got somethin’ to say about that, while we’re on the subject of information.”

“Yes?” she looked confused.

“I think you weren’t entirely honest with me yesterday.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I think you were holding back about your little sister and her love life.”

She stuck her jaw out, trying to look down her nose at me even though we were the same height. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You told me she wasn’t seeing anyone special.”

“That’s right.”

“My sources tell me Darcy might have been going steady with Justin Hammer.”

I’d caught her and she knew it, gnawing at her bottom lip.

“See I think as her protective older sister, you would notice if she was seeing the same guy all the time because he’d be calling by the house. Hard to miss a fancy car like Hammer’s when it’s picking up Darcy and dropping her home again on a regular basis.”

She stayed silent, and I walked a slow circle around her to watch her shoulders twitch. She wasn’t even trying to deny it, which meant Natalie Rushman knew what she was talking about.

“Now why would you keep something like that quiet, when she’s missing? Unless you don’t really want me to find her.”

“How dare you!” she hissed, “Of course I do. Why else would I hire you?”

“I dunno,” I shrugged, “Appearances? Maybe she and Hammer have run off and you know exactly where she is, but you’re tryin’ to save her reputation.”

Miss Carter sighed and sat in my raggedy chair. I waited, standing over her.

“I knew Darcy was meeting with him. About three or four months ago she started sneaking out, or feeding me some lame excuse as she left the house. I saw his car a couple of times in the street, parked near the corner.” she said.

“And you didn’t think that information might be useful?”

“I thought it would just distract you; that you’d write Darcy off as some floozy, the rich man’s mistress. That you wouldn’t take it seriously. I’m telling you she’s a good girl, really. And Hammer can’t be involved – he would never have been at Tony Stark’s.”

“There’s no proof anything happened to Darcy at Stark’s house. She could have left the party and gone to see her boyfriend. After all, I don’t see Hammer crying over her in the newspapers.”

“Maybe he’s protecting her too.”

“Why didn’t you go to him for help finding her?” I said.

Sharon twisted her hands in her lap. “I don’t know him, Mr Barton.”

“You don’t know me either.”

“But I can pay you. What incentive have I got to convince him to spare any time or effort on Darcy? He can find a girl anywhere.”

“Alright,” I sat in the chair next to her, “I believe you were trying to do the right thing. But if I’m working for you, you have to be straight with me. No more secrets, no more holding back. Understand?”

She nodded slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“Now what did you come to tell me?”

“Darcy was acting strangely just before she disappeared. I didn’t think about it until after I’d spoken to you, but she was sleeping a lot during the day and a couple of times she had to sit down because she felt faint.”

“Did she see a doctor?”

“Yes, the day before the party.”

“Any idea what he said?”

“She told me it was just stress over a couple of big auditions, and that she was fine to go to Stark’s as long as she rested beforehand.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, “Could be she passed out somewhere, or fell. Thanks for telling me.”

“It didn’t seem very serious at the time, but now it worries me.”

I checked my watch. “I hate to rush you, but I need to see Mr Hammer before close of business.”

“Oh, of course. Thank you for hearing me out.”

“You’re the client.”

She grabbed her purse. “Did you need more money? I can pay the next few days.”

“Hold onto it for now,” I said, “This could all be wrapped up by tomorrow if we’re lucky.”

“No, I don’t feel right about it. I’d hate for you to need it and not have it.”

She took out a wad of notes and thrust them at me, stuffing them into my hand. I shrugged. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Carter smiled and stood, making for the door.

“Miss Carter?”

She looked back, fingers on the handle. “Yes?”

“It might be better if you keep that information about Hammer and Darcy to yourself for now. Just in case this gets messy.”

She pressed her lips together grimly and shut the door behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

Hammer Industries had a big Art Deco building downtown that looked out of place amongst the four- and five-storey office towers. It would have been happier in Manhattan or Chicago. I ran my eye over the directory by the front entrance and pulled myself up straight and important, breezing past the receptionist like I belonged there. I rode the elevator up to one of the top floors, tipping the operator before I stepped out.

There was a waiting area with a couple of armchairs and a table covered in glossy magazines. The walls were covered in framed front pages with stories about Hammer or the company, his smarmy face smiling back at me half a dozen times. A second receptionist sat behind a desk next to the doorway, her blonde hair set in barrel curls and her lips a candy pink that made you want to lick them.

“Mr Hammer’s in?” I eyed her impatiently, like I had a hundred people waiting on me and an office with a ticker tape machine.

“May I get your name?” she said, voice clear and polite.

I held up a bundle of official-looking folders I’d mocked up from old case files. “I’ve got the monthly reports to put on his desk.”

“Oh, of course. Just down the hall.”

“Thanks, darlin’.”

I followed the corridor past lots of offices with important-looking name plates and around a corner until I reached one that read ‘Justin Hammer, Founder, CEO & Chairman of the Board’ in huge block lettering. I was about to knock when I heard voices and realised the door was ajar. I would have gone ahead anyway but a woman snarled real low and I paused.

“I’m not leaving without some answers, Mr Hammer.”

“Miss Everhart, I accepted this interview because you claimed your story was about Hammer Industries’ new San Fran expansion. I didn’t expect to get ambushed with a bunch of wild theories about shady business practice!”

“My questions shouldn’t bother you if you’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Honey, you’re digging for dirt that isn’t there. Maybe you’d be better off sticking to the social pages, hmm?”

“I take it that means you’re denying the allegations?”

“You know, I think we’re done here. I’ll have someone escort you out.”

I opened the door. “I don’t think that will be necessary, do you?”

Both of them looked stunned for a second. The office was huge, windows on three sides looking down on the rooftops, with a desk wide enough to make me think Hammer was either overcompensating for something or had a lot of late-night meetings with his secretary. Everything was very grey, the carpets and chairs and even the wallpaper. The man himself wore a trim grey suit and silver-rimmed spectacles, and he wasn’t bad-looking, just a bit scrawny. The reporter was a pretty blonde but you could never have mistaken her for a bimbo with that determined look on her face. She stood, glancing back at Hammer.

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m sure I can remember the way out.”

She slipped a small notebook and a pen into her bag and walked past without looking back at him, eying me curiously instead. I ducked aside with a smile and closed the door behind her.

“Dames, huh?” I shook my head.

“They don’t have the temperament for journalism. The subtlety.” Hammer sighed.

“I’ve never found subtlety to be their problem.” I wandered over to the windows, admiring the view.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” he frowned.

“Clint Barton. I’m investigating the disappearance of Miss Darcy Lewis.”

He adjusted his glasses. “Who? I’m not sure what that has to do with me. Are you with the police?”

“No – luckily for you. Because you certainly know her, don’t you Mr Hammer? The two of you were going around together.”

He spluttered out a laugh like a braying donkey. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve got it on good authority you were a frequent visitor to her house, and seen accompanying her in public. Makes it awful strange that you haven’t come forward since she went missing.”

“Your good authority is mistaken then, because I’m not seeing any Darcy Lewis.”

“Oh well. Guess I’m wasting my time here. I’ll pass the info along to the cops and let them chase it up with you. Or maybe I’ll go find that plucky reporter – she seemed to be very interested in your doings.” I turned towards the door.

“Wait!” he stood, “I’ll talk to you, alright? Just don’t go involving anyone else.”

I took a seat at the desk, watching as he got up and went to the sideboard. He opened a decanter that probably cost more than my car and poured himself a drink.

“Scotch?”

“Just a small one.” I said.

He slopped half a finger in a glass and brought it over for me, sitting on the corner of the desk.

“What happened to Darcy?”

“Why don’t you tell me? When was the last time you saw her?”

“She called me Saturday, not last week but the one before. She said she had some news and asked if we could meet on the Tuesday. I arranged the where and when.”

“You didn’t think it was odd when she didn’t show?”

He shrugged. “I figured she was being careful, and she’d call again when she could.”

“So you _were_ screwin’ around.”

“No! God no, she was sleeping with Stark.”

“Stark? The recently engaged Tony Stark?”

Hammer scoffed. “Engaged or not, he’s been with Pepper for years and it’s never stopped him dabbling on the side. She turns a blind eye, and who can blame her? He’s the most eligible man in America.”

“And he was sleeping with Darcy? What makes you think that?”

“She told me so. I mean it was part of the plan.”

“Plan?” I quirked a brow.

“You’re really not from the police or the press?”

“I’m a private investigator trying to find Miss Lewis on behalf of family. That’s where my interest ends.”

He smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “I hired Darcy to get close to Tony and spy on him for me.”

I sat back in my chair and took a deep swig of my drink. “No wonder that reporter called you shady.”

“Hey, on the whole West Coast there’s no one to rival either of us, which means we’re constantly vying for the same projects. I just wanted to keep up.” Hammer said.

“What kind of information was she supposed to get you?”

“Ideally? Plans, business models, financial records – anything she could get her hands on. But I figured that stuff wasn’t going to be lying around all the time, so really she was just reporting on things he’d mentioned and his general mood.”

“You pimped her out for some idle gossip?” I drained my glass in disgust.

“I never said she _had_ to sleep with him, just that it was our best option to get close.”

“I hope you were paying her well.”

He pursed his lips. “Extremely.”

“Did you have people keeping an eye on her? Keeping her safe in case Stark found out?”

“I couldn’t have her traced back to me. Tony would crucify me in the papers for something like that.”

“What about after she missed your meeting?”

“I sent someone by the house to see if everything was okay and it looked fine.” He said.

“Great,” I stood, getting in his face, “So you sent a kid with no experience to spy on a genius with money and influence, then you step back and wash your hands of it. You’re a real gentleman, Hammer. Did you even care what happened to her?”

He backed up, glowering at me. “She wasn’t supposed to get hurt! I didn’t think it was a big deal – Stark’s an asshole but he’s no killer. She was just supposed to get me a couple of tidbits until he lost interest in her, and then she’d walk away with a nice paycheck. It was an easy job.”

“Well I hope you’ve still got that cash floating around, cos her sister might need it for the funeral.”

“Darcy’s dead?” he gaped.

“I don’t know yet. For your sake, I hope not.”

He hurried around the desk and rummaged through his drawers for a second, holding up a cheque book.

“How much?“

“How much for what?” I spat.

“How much for you to find her?”

“So you can make sure she didn’t tell anybody about your dirty scheme? Forget it, I’ve already got a client.”

I pushed the empty tumbler towards him and walked out, slamming the door as I left.


	8. Chapter 8

I was so mad about that weasel Hammer I spent an hour just driving aimlessly, blowing off steam as I chain smoked the last of my cigarettes. He put Darcy in danger and thought nothing of it – maybe Stark seemed harmless to him, but someone like Hammer wasn’t so easy to make disappear. Darcy was an unknown, and most people wouldn’t even notice if they never saw her again.

I stopped back at the office itching to do something. I wanted to shove Stark’s pretty lies down his throat, but turning up at the house again wasn’t the best idea if he was a murderer. I picked up my phone and my black book of friends, and waited for the operator to connect me.

“Bishop, Daily Sentinel.” The gal answered brusquely.

“Hey Katie. Miss me?”

“I told you not to call me that, Barton. What do you want?”

“A push in the right direction.”

“Don’t you always.” She grumbled.

“Got a clue where Tony Stark’s gonna be for supper?”

I could hear her eyes narrow through the phone. “Why? Is he a client or a suspect?”

“Don’t make me spoil the surprise.”

“Fine. It’ll cost ya.”

“Why’s it always about money with you, Kate?”

“Because I write a tawdry column in an otherwise respectable paper, so I make jack shit. Are you paying or not?”

“I’ll give you something better than cash - if my hunch pans out, I’ll come to you with a front page piece that will get you out of the gossip racket for good.” I said.

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait, wait. I’ll throw in twenty bucks too.”

“Thirty, and I want it by Friday. Stark’s got a reservation for eight at La Siréne.”

“You’re a doll, Katie.”

“Thank Christ you’re not married, Barton, or you’d drive the poor woman insane. Bring me that story when you have it.”

She hung up on me and I put the receiver down with a chuckle.

*****

At eight I was waiting under the awning of a drug store near the restaurant, having a smoke as I watched the front doors. A black sedan pulled up, engine idling. The front passenger door opened and a guy in a suit stepped out, looking around. He was muscle but the lean, stealthy kind, his eyes sharp. He looked like he could have been someone’s nice uncle but I wouldn’t have wanted to start a fight with him. He opened the back door and Stark climbed out, reaching a hand back to help a dame in a silver evening gown and big white lace shawl. It wasn’t his fiancée, and I shook my head at his spunk. But Hammer was right – no woman would leave Tony Stark over a little thing like infidelity.

They went inside and I waited another fifteen minutes for them to get comfortable before following. The host gave me a snooty look as I scanned the room. I stood out and I knew it; even in my nice suit I was underdressed for the red velvet chairs, the chandeliers and the crystal champagne coupes. There were about forty tables, half on a raised section along the back wall. I spotted Stark at one in the corner and went straight past the waiter trying to get my attention, climbed the stairs. He was sitting with the broad, his bodyguard at a small side table a couple of feet away to give them the illusion of privacy. I slid into the chair on Stark’s left.

“Mind if I sit? I couldn’t get a reservation.”

He smiled, teeth white and clenched shut like he wanted to eat me. “Twice in two days, Mr Barton? I’m overwhelmed by your tenacity.”

“I had some follow-up questions. I told you it was a distinct possibility we’d be meeting again.”

“You did,” he smirked, “Champagne?”

“I’ll pass. Mind if we speak in front of your friend here?” I gestured to his date.

Stark turned to the lackey. “Coulson, would you please take Miss Hansen for a walk around the block while I talk to Clint?”

Coulson eyed me distastefully. “It’s against protocol.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s not going to plug me in the middle of the restaurant, but you can check him over if it makes you comfortable.”

I spread my arms. “Frisk away. I don’t carry. It encourages people to shoot me.”

Coulson stood, reaching his hands down both sides of my torso casually and nodding to his boss. “We’ll be fifteen minutes. Miss Hansen?”

She glanced at Stark and he waved her on.

“We’ve just got some quick business to take care of, sweetheart. It would only bore you, I promise – it bores me. Go with Coulson, he’ll keep you entertained.” He said.

The two of them walked off and I clucked my tongue against my top teeth. “You sure live the life, don’t ya Stark?”

“Would you believe I’m interviewing her for a position at Stark Industries?”

“No.”

“Oh well. What did you rudely interrupt my evening for?”

“I wanted to clarify something you said yesterday. You claimed you didn’t know Darcy much.”

“I don’t. She’s someone I see around, that’s all.”

“Sure, like when you roll over in bed.”

Stark snorted. “Cute. I’m happily engaged.”

“Oh yeah, I can see that. Miss Hansen seemed to miss the memo, but I’m certain you were about to correct her.”

“Two adults aren’t allowed to have dinner at a nice place without you jumping to conclusions?”

“Not when they look like she did. You might as well drop the act, Stark, I know you were foolin’ around with the kid.”

“So much for not sticking your nose too far into my business then,” Stark’s joking look flew off his face, leaving a sour sneer, “Fine. Darcy was someone I took out to dinner.”

“Regularly?”

“Once or twice a week, over the last few months.”

“How’d she manage to hold your attention so long?”

Stark smiled. “She was delightfully young and naïve. That’s not usually my thing, cos on a lot of girls it tends to be fake, but she was genuine. It was…sweet. Pepper’s a strong woman and I need that, need at least one person in my life who won’t kowtow and stroke my ego. Darcy was more about-”

“Ego stroking?”

“Yeah.” He winked.

“She didn’t care about Pepper?”

“I think she was wary of stepping on Pep’s toes, but that’s an admirable quality in my dates. I can’t have anyone getting ideas about replacing her.”

“Did Pepper know you were seeing Darcy?”

Stark clasped his hands on the table, giving me a serious look. “Have you ever had a mistress, Mr Barton?”

“I don’t have time for one dame, let alone two.”

“Well standard policy is not to discuss one with the other. Pep is a smart girl, and she knows I love her.”

“So she doesn’t complain and you pay for that silence in diamonds.”

“Free market ideals are what this country was founded on.” He beamed smugly.

“And they’ve served you well,” I said, “But she must have known, especially if you were seeing Darcy so often. Is there a chance she got unhappy with that situation? Maybe thought you were seeing too much of Miss Lewis?”

“I told you, Pepper knows who I wanna be with. She wouldn’t hang around if she didn’t think I was serious. That’s half the reason she overlooks my side ‘entanglements’.”

“Did you coach Bobbi Morse and Natalie Rushman with the story that Darcy was last seen at the bar?”

“No. Darce was talking to them, I saw it.”

“And after that?”

“I was circulating. About midnight people started leaving; by one thirty I was in bed. I didn’t see Darcy but I figured she’d gone home since I didn’t ask her to stay the night.”

“Did you try to contact her between the party and the police showing up?”

“No. And she didn’t contact me either, just to be clear. Her being missing was news to me.”

“I don’t suppose your bully boys have turned anything up?” I leaned forward on crossed arms.

“Same as you, I’m guessing. No sign of her at the hospitals or morgues, no ransom demands, no reports of her being seen with anyone.”

I couldn’t tell if he was lying. He was answering my questions, which was more than I’d expected, but it might have been to avoid a scene and keep up the pretence we were having a friendly chat. He seemed to have the most to gain by Darcy’s sudden absence, and I wasn’t convinced that with all his resources, he didn’t have any better leads. I decided to push and see if he cracked.

“Did you find out she was meeting with Justin Hammer?”

Tony’s brow twitched, his bottom lip coming out. “Define ‘meeting’.”

“It’s when two parties both go to an agreed place at an agreed time-”

“You’ve got a smart mouth, Clint, and normally I like that,” he growl, suddenly angry, “But I’m running out of patience. Tell me what you know or when Coulson gets back his next job will be kicking your ass to the kerb.”

“Why are you so jumpy all of a sudden? Jealous, Stark?”

“That little punk steals enough of my business without swiping my dates too.” he seethed.

“Relax, they weren’t doin’ the dirty on you. Not like that, anyway.”

“How then?” he said.

I thought about it. If I told Stark Darcy was spying on him and his boys managed to find her, she’d be in a lot of trouble. But I had a fair suspicion that exact scenario had already happened, and she wasn’t going to turn up safe and well. Plus if Stark didn’t know already, I’d be getting Hammer in strife, and nothing made me happier than the idea of him getting hung out to dry after the way he’d try to buy me off to soothe his conscience.

“Hammer recruited her to spy on you.”

Stark looked like I’d stuck a firecracker up him and lit the fuse. He fisted his napkin in his hand, face turning red. Either he didn’t know or he should have had his own star on the Walk of Fame.

“That no-good little minx! Hammer put her up to it?”

“Heard it from him myself. She was supposed to reel you in and hand over any tidbits that fell in her lap.”

“I never would have believed she was capable of that.” He said, still sounding stunned.

“How’s that ego now?”

He said a four-letter word that would be frowned on in church and refilled his glass.

“Forget her then. I don’t care where Darcy is or what mess she’s in – probably one of Hammer’s, since he screws up everything he touches. I’m not wasting another dime looking for her.”

The restaurant door opened, Coulson escorting Stark’s date in.

“Time’s up.” He gave me a smile with his lips glued together.

I stood, buttoning my jacket. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Stark. I apologise for holding up your meal.”

“I’m glad you did. Maybe I should be offering you a job, since you’re so resourceful.”

“I’m not the right guy for hobnobbing around town with your people,” I waved a hand, “Speaking of which, did ya hear Aldrich Killian’s dead?”

Stark blinked. “No. When did that happen?”

“Yesterday morning. Slipped in his bathroom and hit his head.”

“That’s dreadful.”

“Just tragic.”

“I’ll send flowers to his secretary.”

“That’s a swell gesture. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”


	9. Chapter 9

I waved brightly to the muscle and the brunette as I passed them, Coulson giving me a glare that could have frozen boiling water. I strolled out of the restaurant and turned down the street, heading back to my car and wondering how much of Stark’s tale was honest.

“Got a light?”

I stopped, following the voice to a woman standing at the mouth of an alley between two stores, the building’s shadow hiding her face. I fished out my matches and struck one off. She leaned in as I brought the flame close to the cigarette, hair sticking out around the brim of a low navy hat.

“I know you. I saw you this afternoon, at Hammer Industries. What a coincidence, huh?” I snickered.

“There are no coincidences, sir, in this life or the next. I followed you.”

“I’m impressed. There aren’t a lot of people who can escape my attention, especially when they’re handsome blondes.”

“It’s my job.” She stubbed the smoke out on the wall without taking a drag.

“It suits you. What’s so interesting about me you dragged yourself across town to talk?”

“My name is Christine Everhart. I’m a reporter for the Bugle.”

“Clint Barton. Pleasure to meet you, I hope.”

“Mr Barton, it’s a little odd I saw you with Justin Hammer earlier today and now you’re having dinner with Tony Stark. They don’t have a lot of mutual friends.”

“They’re in the same racket.”

“My point exactly. What are you to them?” she said.

“Nothin’ at all. I’m a private detective working a case, and they’re sources.”

“What kind of case?”

“Sorry sweetheart, I don’t make a habit of giving out client information to reporters.”

“Even if it could help me put away those crooks?”

“What they do in their spare time doesn’t interest me. I only care about _my_ investigation.”

“How do you know my story and your case aren’t connected?” she demanded.

I scratched behind my ear, eying her. She seemed smart and persistent, and good at talking her way into interviews with important men. Maybe she did know something about Darcy, especially if she was tailing Stark or Hammer the way she’d tailed me.

“I might be willing to talk, if it stays off the record.”

She opened her mouth and I held up a hand.

“I have people to protect.”

“Like Tony Stark and Justin Hammer?”

“No. Innocent people.”

Christine shrugged. “No such thing. But we can speak off the record if you like, with the understanding I might use your information to further my own enquiries.”

“That’s fine with me, as long as my client stays out of it.”

“There’s a diner on Columbia and 7th. Meet me there in half an hour.” She said.

“You don’t wanna grab a ride with me?”

“I’m a careful person, Mr Barton. I don’t trust anyone these days,” she frowned, “Besides, it’s better for both of us if we aren’t seen together around here.”

“Alright. Columbia and 7th. I’ll have a booth ready.”

*****

I found the place easy enough. It wasn’t busy, the waitresses walking around refilling coffee cups slowly, tired from spending all day on their feet. I got a table near the kitchen door so I’d have the wall at my back, and the noise should foil anybody looking to eavesdrop.

Miss Everhart showed up about ten minutes later, sitting opposite me with a smile like we were on a date.

“You want a coffee?” I asked.

“I’d love one.” She took out a little notebook and pencil.

I placed our order with the waitress, grateful for the hot rush of caffeine as I took a sip. When we were alone again, Christine leaned in.

“Tell me about your case.”

“Tell me about your story.”

“You first.”

“What if I hear what you have to say, and I’m confident it’s unrelated to my case? No need to involve my client then.”

“That’s not how this works,” she scowled, “We’re exchanging material here. You don’t get to listen to me spill and then hold out on me. This is a very dangerous story and I’m risking a lot even talking to you-”

“Okay,” I cut her off, “I’ll go first. I was hired to find a girl who went missing after one of Stark’s big parties.”

“Hired by whom?”

“Her sister.”

“Where does Hammer come in?” she said.

“A source told me they might have been an item, but when I went to see him he denied it. He said she and Stark were an item, on account of the girl was spying on Tony for him.”

Christine raised her brows, scribbling a note. “Do you believe him?”

“Why would he confess to corporate espionage if it wasn’t true? It doesn’t downplay his role in anything – it actually makes him look worse. Criminally inclined.”

“Oh, he’s that alright.” She laughed bitterly.

“Is that the dangerous story you’re chasing?”

She threw a glance around the restaurant nervously, fidgeting with her pencil. “I got a tip from a Stark Industries employee that both companies were buying off high-ranking military liaisons to win contracts.”

“So?” I shrugged, “Isn’t that just business? Everybody tries to woo their customers.”

She looked at me like I was contagious. “These men aren’t Wall St brokers or used car salesmen. They build and provide weapons and equipment for the army. They’re supposed to be keeping our boys safe, but instead of giving the contracts to whoever deserves it, they’re going to the highest bidder. Stark and Hammer are playing with the future of this very country – of democracy, and freedom, if their products aren’t up to scratch.”

“Sounds like humble boardroom shenanigans to me. Why should the public care? They make good weapons. That’s why they’re competing in the first place.”

“And what about the corrupt officials taking those bribes under the table? You don’t think it’s wrong for people like that to hold such power over military decisions and operations?”

“Maybe, but they’re no worse than their superiors, I’m sure. Honey, as far as I can see nobody’s breakin’ the law here. If Stark and Hammer wanna throw their money away, let ‘em.”

“Commercial bribery can be charged as a felony-”

I laughed.

“-and military personnel taking bribes is definitely against regulation.”

“You really think you’ve got a scoop? If no one’s getting hurt, no one’s gonna care.”

“By the time somebody gets hurt it will be too late.” She said flatly, face like stone.

“Okay. It’s a noble effort, but I don’t think you’re gonna get anywhere with it, and I don’t see what it has to do with my case.”

She frowned thoughtfully. “If the missing girl was a spy, maybe she found something related to the contracts and they had to silence her.”

“Who? Stark? He’d buy his way out of the charges, same as he bought his way in. And Hammer would have just told her to keep her mouth shut, since he was already paying her.”

“Do you think Justin Hammer is the kind of man to keep his head in a crisis?” Christine arched a brow.

I didn’t, but I didn’t say that.

“Even if you’re right, and Hammer and Stark have no reason to fear the law, their partners do. They’d face a military tribunal. They might have wanted to keep her quiet, if they didn’t take care of the problem themselves.”

I stroked my chin. “It’s possible. It’s not even a bad theory. I’ve got some better ones, but I’ll keep it in mind. I take it you’ve been following Hammer and Stark, creeping around their headquarters, that sorta thing?”

“Off the record?” she grinned, “Yes.”

“You didn’t see either of them acting strange this last week? Missing meetings or taking days off unexpectedly?”

Christine shook her head slowly. “Not that I noticed.”

“Didn’t see a girl? Nineteen, long dark wavy hair, name’s Darcy.”

“I haven’t, I’m sorry.”

I sighed. “That’s okay. I figured it was a long shot.”

“Would it be forward of me to ask you to pass along anything you find that relates to my story?”

“It would,” I smiled, “But if you close your eyes and wish real hard, something might fall onto your desk. Miracles happen.”

“I’ll keep an ear out for your girl.”

“Thanks. Is this the beginning of a beautiful friendship?”

Miss Everhart wrinkled her nose, standing. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

She walked out, heels clicking on the floor, and I chuckled to myself. I like a dame with spirit.


	10. Chapter 10

I slept like a log; all this running about town was wearing me out, and it wasn’t doing my tires much good either. Not to mention I wasn’t really getting anywhere. I didn’t even know if Darcy was alive or dead, though I suspected the last one. I couldn’t go trawling through Stark’s place looking for bloodstains and bullet holes either. I wanted to talk to his intended, the lovely Miss Potts, but I had the feeling if I showed up to ask about an absent mistress I’d get an icy reception followed by a good beatdown from Stark’s flunkies.

I decided to call on Miss Carter at home. I could ask if she’d known Darcy was seeing Stark on the regular, and look over the girl’s room for any secrets she might have hidden away. And I could ask if Darcy had made any plans to meet with people that might be soldiers or reporters or lawyers, just in case Everhart’s crazy army theory was true. I showered and shaved and put on a nice blue shirt, hoping to convey the image of someone worth giving your money to, and hopped in my car.

Miss Carter and her sister shared a nice place not far from the outskirts of the business district, a proper house with a front yard. I parked in the drive and knocked on a homey pink door. After a moment it opened a couple of inches, Sharon’s face visible in the crack.

“Mr Barton?”

“I hope you don’t mind?”

The door closed and I heard the chain click, then she opened it and waved me in. “Of course not.”

We were standing in a small entry, the floors dark wood, stairs in front of the door. On one side of the hall was a living room with a wireless and some well-padded couches covered in cushions, a plush rug on the floor. On the other side was a dining room with a table for four, and I could see through into the kitchen. It felt warm, very clean and cosy - a lot like Miss Carter, really.

“Do you have news about Darcy?” she wrung her hands.

“I don’t, sorry. Got some new ideas but nothing concrete.”

She frowned. “Then why are you here?”

“I have a couple of questions, and I’d like to take a look through Darcy’s things if that’s okay. Might find something to support my theory.” I said.

“Of course. I’ll put some coffee on, if you’d like to go up.”

“Sure.”

“How do you take it?”

“Black with two. Darcy’s room?”

“On the left.”

I climbed the stairs as she headed for the kitchen. There was a bathroom at the top, and a bedroom with the door ajar on my right. I turned left and walked into a second room that was nowhere near as neat as the rest of the house, clothes hanging out through the gap between the wardrobe doors, cosmetics littered across the top of the dresser. The bed was made though, the covers lemon yellow.

I started looking around, turning things over in the mess to check underneath and holding scrawled notes up to the light. Her jewellery box had some nice pieces in it, but I expected that from a girl who’d been seeing Stark. I knelt beside the bed and felt under the mattress, my fingers brushing something papery. I tugged out a thick yellow envelope and opened the top, whistling at the crisp stacks of cash inside. She hadn’t spent Hammer’s money then, or at least not all of it.

I put the money on the mattress and kept looking. There was a box on the floor next to the wardrobe like a traveller’s chest, the lid open. A woollen blanket hung over the edge, and when I picked it up I realised it was too small to be a wrap or a scarf. It was pale pink, slightly worn around the edges and embroidered with flowers in one corner.

“That was Darcy’s.” Sharon said, appearing in the doorway with a mug in each hand.

“Baby blanket?”

“Yes. I saw her looking at it before the party.”

“It’s a wonder she’s still got it.”

“She keeps lots of mementos.” She held out the mug and I set it on the floor out of the way.

Sharon walked over to the bed and gasped. “What’s all that?”

“Your sister was being paid to spy on Tony Stark.” I said casually, looking through the box.

“What? By who?”

“Justin Hammer. They weren’t involved, by the way. No need to worry about that.”

“Gosh…why would Darcy get mixed up in something like that?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.” I said.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. We don’t need the money – our parents left us this house, and what I make doing typing work covers food and bills.”

“I’m thinking Hammer promised to put in a good word for her at the studios.”

Sharon laughed softly. “Poor Darcy. She so badly wants to be a star.”

“Did you ever see her with Stark?”

“No, just Mr Hammer.”

I nodded. Stark would be a lot more careful about staying in the parts of town where no one’s going to comment on his younger dates, because they’re all out with their mistresses too.

“Do you know if she had any friends who were reporters?”

Miss Carter frowned. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you know if she arranged to meet with anyone new or unusual around the time she disappeared?”

“Unusual?”

“Lawyers, cops, army types.”

“What in God’s name was Darcy mixed up in, Mr Barton?”

“Maybe nothing. But Hammer and Stark have their fingers in a lot of pies, and she was flitting between the two of them like a turtledove.”

She seemed to collect herself before she answered. “I didn’t keep a close eye on her calendar but I can’t say I heard her making any plans.”

I gave the room another scan. “There’s nothing missing?”

“No.”

Darcy didn’t plan to leave then. The fact she’d left all that money behind made that pretty clear. I dug back into the box and pulled out a couple of folded letters fastened together with a hair pin. I opened the first one and started reading.

“What are those?” Sharon asked.

“Notes from Stark.”

“Love letters?”

I met her eyes over the top of the paper. “I wouldn’t call them that.”

“Threats?” she went pale.

“He makes a lot of promises about doing things to her, but they’re not exactly hostile.”

“Oh.” she sat on the edge of the bed, hard.

I winced and slid the letters into my jacket, then turned to face her.

“Look, I’m an ass. I should have warned ya instead of springin’ it on ya like that.”

“Darcy was…with Mr Stark?”

“Yeah. It was part of the spyin’ gig.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, tearing up. “Oh God, you must think I’m the most terrible sister, letting her get herself into trouble like this.”

“Darcy’s an adult, alright? Capable of making her own decisions. You’re not responsible for her choices.”

“How can you say that? Maybe she took the job because she felt like she couldn’t ask me for money, or I wasn’t providing for her-”

“Stop,” I said, “I don’t know why Darcy took the job. Maybe she just had a crush on Tony Stark and wanted a chance to get close. But I know everyone I’ve spoken to says she’s a kind, sweet girl who never traded on her looks to get parts. Why that changed with Stark, I don’t know yet. But it sounds like you did a great job watchin’ over her.”

She sniffed, rubbing at her nose. “Is she dead, Mr Barton?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please, be straight with me. Can I ever expect to get her home safely?”

I felt a great lump in the back of my throat as she turned those pretty blues on me, all red-rimmed and wet and pleading. I couldn’t lie to her.

“I don’t think so.”

She threw her arms around my neck and started bawling into my chest, body shaking as she sobbed. I let her go on for a bit. She needed it.

When she started slowing down and taking lots of deep breaths, I pulled away. “I think you and I need a drink.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry about that. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” I raised a brow, “Your kid sister is missing. You’re upset. That’s natural.”

“I don’t think I could face a drink anyway,” she snuffled, “I’d much rather just go to bed.”

“Well, if you insist.”

She gaped at me, cheeks going red as she smacked me in the chest. “Mr Barton!”

“Kidding, doll,” I smiled, “But I like seeing some fight back in ya.”

She laughed, sloppy and unrestrained, and it made her look ten years younger. I realised Miss Carter wasn’t that old; she’d just been carrying her worries around on her face.

“Need me to tuck you in?” I joked.

“I think I can manage, thank you.”

“Keep that money in a safe place.” I said, getting up and draining my now-lukewarm jolt juice.

“I will. Clint…you’ll be careful, won’t you?” she frowned.

“I’m gonna try.” I touched my hat, rapping my knuckles against the door for luck.


	11. Chapter 11

The elevator stopped at my floor and I stepped out, eyes on the carpet, hands jammed in my pockets. I was feeling sore about Miss Carter, and mad at myself that I didn’t have better news. It was stupid; if something bad had happened to Darcy, it would have been before I was even on the case, but I still felt like I was letting Sharon down.

I slid my key into the lock, pausing. The mechanism felt loose and wrong, and when I turned the handle the door swung open.

“Fuck.”

Someone had paid me a visit, and they weren’t the tidiest guest. The papers had been ripped out of my filing cabinets and tossed all over the floor, the drawers themselves hanging on an angle. My desk had been almost dismantled, the blotter cut into pieces, the chair cushions slashed open with their lacklustre stuffing spilling out. They even pulled up the wallpaper in one corner, exposing the drywall underneath. My good suit was a tattered rag, the lining shredded.

Apparently I’d cheesed off the wrong people. It didn’t feel like a threat though – that would have been something like a gun jammed into the small of my back, or a fire, or a bullet that grazed the wall by my head. No, whoever it was hadn’t ransacked the office to annoy me or warn me off. They wanted to know who I was, what I knew or both.

I rested my hat on the top corner of the door with a disgusted look and left my jacket hanging from the knob. I rolled up my shirt sleeves and started putting things to rights, gathering up the folders and trying to get all the pages together again. I checked the mess around the desk but my Browning was gone. I picked up my phone to check the bottom, and found a tiny square of metal stuck under the edge of the casing.

I prised it off, holding it up to the light. It was a recording device, good quality, but that meant nothing considering my suspects included the military and the two guys who invented stuff for them. I couldn’t see any identifying marks. I wrapped it in a handkerchief and stuffed it in the top drawer of the desk under some pencils and junk before continuing my clean-up.

I needed to call Miss Everhart at the Bugle. I’d been investigating Darcy’s disappearance for days and not had any trouble until I met with her. If she was flat-out accusing Hammer and Stark of passing bribes, chances were the army knew she was hunting them down. They could be following her just as efficiently as she’d followed me. I was reaching for the phone when someone laughed.

“Goodness, Mr Barton. Is it hurricane season?”

Natalie Rushman was standing in my door, a hand on one hip as she surveyed the damage. She looked dressed up for something with a tight black dress that skimmed her knees and a matching ribbon around her neck. Her lips were as red as ever, and she pulled them back in a playful smile.

“Yeah. Some rough weather just tore right through.” I came around the desk.

“I didn’t hear anything in the news.”

“It was a short storm,” I sneered, “One of those blink-and-you’ll-miss-it things. What brings you to my sorry excuse for an office?”

She leaned against the doorframe with a sultry pout. “You didn’t come to see me last night.”

“You don’t seem like the kinda girl who’d miss a guy, especially one she barely knows.”

“Maybe I’m not as cold-blooded as I look.”

I looked her up and down. “I’ll bet.”

She sauntered closer, batting those lashes at me. “Did I read you wrong, Clint? I thought we had a certain spark.”

“Sorry doll, I had to work late. Important people to harass, you know the drill.”

She looked around. “What a coincidence – you go looking up rich men’s noses and suddenly it’s typhoon season. I told you to drop the case. Hammer doesn’t mess around.”

“What makes you so sure it was him?”

“Who else would it be?” she tilted her head.

“I get on the wrong side of a lotta people.”

“Sounds like a bad habit.”

She came even closer, right in front of me now, and placed her palms against my chest. She looked up at me, lips pursed prettily. I grabbed her wrists.

“Is Stark making you play out this act?”

“What act?”

“The one where you use your feminine wiles to throw me off the case. You’re not even trying to be subtle about it, and I know you could be.”

“Have you considered I might just like you?” Natalie said.

“Dames like you don’t go for guys like me.”

“Says who? It happens all the time in songs.”

“You’re incredible, you know that? Coming on strong when you could have me droolin’ with half the effort – why, so I _don’t_ fall for it?”

“I told you I liked you.”

“I’m starting to believe it.”

She leaned in and kissed me, hands slipping down so our fingers laced together. It was the right kiss for all the wrong reasons, her lips soft against mine, the smell of her hair filling my senses. She was warm and close, and not shy about giving back as good as she got. I could feel her smile as she pulled away.

“Distracting enough for you?”

“Who are you working for?”

Natalie laughed. “Obviously not.”

“Is it Stark? He would be the type to use a gorgeous face to do his dirty work. Come on, don’t hold out on me.”

“I think I’ve been very accommodating so far.” She dropped my hands, stepping back.

“You’re a real peach. I’d hate to see you get into the same trouble as Darcy.”

Her eyes flashed for a second, smile tight. “I can take care of myself.”

“Are you sure? You’re the one telling me Hammer is a dangerous man.”

“You wanna try me?” she arched a brow.

I shook my head, leaning back against the desk. “Nah. No time for that. I’ve got cleaning to do.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for the police?”

“I’m not callin’ ‘em.”

Natalie gave a skeptical laugh. “Are you kidding? This place screams ‘crime scene’.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I couldn’t solve this one on my own.”

“What, are you afraid they’ll find something you don’t plan on sharing?”

Actually I was afraid of getting anyone else mixed up in my problems. If the army was gunning for me, I didn’t need them turning on any good cops while they were at it.

“I don’t like people nosing around my business, and I don’t need to be told how to do my job.” I said.

“I love a man who handles himself with such…integrity. It’s a rare quality.”

She kissed my cheek.

“It’s an open invitation, by the way. If you’ve got some free time one evening.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

The redhead waltzed out, throwing me a last coy look over her shoulder. I sighed. There’s always something with the women who find me interesting; they’re complicated, mysterious, and generally a pain in my ass.

I waited until I heard the elevator doors close and the gears hum as it started moving, then picked up the phone.

“Operator speaking.”

“The Daily Bugle please.”

I aimed a broken pen at the bin while I waited, thinking I should keep a closer eye on my car if I didn’t want it ending up trashed too.

The line clicked. “Hello, Daily Bugle?”

“I’m looking for Miss Christine Everhart.”

“Oh,” the girl paused, “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. She’s – uh – well she…Christine’s dead.”


	12. Chapter 12

I parked by the side of the highway behind a couple of police cruisers, lighting a cigarette as I tramped down the grassy hill. The ground fell away into a bit of a ditch, not visible from the road, before levelling out in a bunch of orange groves that stretched in all directions. Cops were crawling everywhere, looking in the grass and shining their lights up into the fruit trees.

Miss Everhart’s body was laid out in the ditch, still wearing the same suit she was in when she left me at the diner. Her shoes and hat were both gone, and her little pocketbook with the notepad. She looked like she’d taken a tumble down the hill, grass in her hair and dirt on her face and arms.

The lead detective was standing over her while the medical examiner did his final checks, a couple of orderlies waiting to carry her up to a waiting ambulance. I knew him through Steve Rogers; they were old friends, despite working in different divisions. He was tough, enough so that I’d trust him more than most cops. He wasn’t the type to be bought off or intimidated.

“Sergeant Barnes.” I touched my hand to my brow before taking a long drag.

“Barton. What are you doing here?” he frowned, brushing the long dark hair out of his eyes.

“I knew the deceased.”

“Oh yeah? Old flame?”

“She took me out to dinner once.”

He huffed under his breath. “You’re a real louse, Barton, making your dates pay.”

“Not much money in my line of work; just bruises and heartache.”

“Cry me a damn river – at least you don’t have anyone looking over your shoulder 24/7.” Barnes shook his head.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“The orange pickers found her when they started this morning, but as I understand it most of them don’t speak much English and they got too nervous to call it in, in case we pinned it on them.”

“Where’s her purse?”

“Can’t find it.”

I glanced at the trees. “Think someone made off with it before they called the cops?”

Barnes snorted. “Please. They were shaking like leaves the whole time I was interviewing them. They’re not exactly the hardened criminal classes our dear politicians like to lump them in with.”

“Cause of death?”

He crouched by her head, using a pencil to tilt it until I could see the gaping wound by her temple. “Single shot, clean entry, messy exit but the mess isn’t here. The killing definitely went down elsewhere.”

“And they dumped her here. Probably just drove up, opened the door and rolled her out.” I spat in the grass.

“It’s clean marksmanship. No signs she fought back, so she either knew them or was scared enough to follow orders.”

“She wasn’t what you’d call compliant.” I said.

“Most people lose their attitude real fast when there’s a gun involved. We’re trying to find any witnesses nearby but I think it’s pretty hopeless,” Barnes stood, “She can’t have been killed until late last night so I’m gonna track her movements, see if we can pinpoint when and where she might have been attacked. Maybe find the actual murder location.”

I looked down at the woman who’d been so strong and loud and animated over coffee. She’d told me her story was dangerous, and here was the unfortunate proof. I felt bad, like I should have done more to discourage her, or at least help. I could have named a friend or two in the force who might have kept an eye on her for the right price. But I’d thought she was crazy, with her half-cocked theories about _possibly_ illegal goings-on.

I was definitely a convert now; the only people I knew who might have wanted Christine Everhart dead were Hammer, Stark and their army friends. Hammer struck me as too much of a pansy for a cold-blooded hit like this; hiring Darcy as a spy told me he didn’t have any good criminal connections anyway. Stark had muscle, talented men by the looks of them, but if he was going to kill anyone who dug around in his business I would have been top of the list. Christine’s accusations about bribery were nothing compared to me knowing the ins and outs of his love life.

Which left the army, who Everhart had been afraid of and who had hundreds of trained gunmen at their disposal. Who were influential enough to squash the law if it came calling, so didn’t need to hide the body. Who were basically untouchable. And if they had no problem getting rid of one nosy broad, they could have done away with Darcy too. She was a spy after all – maybe she did see something she shouldn’t have.

I finished my cigarette, weighing up how much to tell Barnes. If I let him go on his merry way and start investigating, eventually one of two things would happen: he’d find the army connection and they’d kill him too, or he’d find out I saw Christine just before the murder and then I’d have to tell him what we were meeting about anyway. But if I admitted I had a fair idea who the killers were, he was a stubborn enough fella to go after them and get himself into trouble.

“Barnes, can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure.”

I led him away from the site, under the shade of the orange trees, and ran a thumb along my jaw while I found the right words.

“Listen, it might be better if you don’t dig too deep into this one.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw Everhart last night. She was working on a story, a big one, and I think it landed her in that ditch. And if you try to nab the guy, you might end up next to her.”

“Barton, if you’ve got information, hand it over.”

“Can’t you just trust me when I say this one’s too dangerous?”

“No.”

I swore. “Geez, course not. Okay – if I tell you what she told me, will you promise not to be an idiot about it? Rogers will shoot my ass if I get you killed.”

“I don’t have to promise you shit, or Rogers. Cough up.”

I told him about the bribery, about how she’d been following Hammer and Stark and possibly some of their contacts. I gave him the name of the diner, so he could verify I’d been there and she’d left before me whole and healthy. He jotted down some notes in a squiggly shorthand I couldn’t read, glancing at me.

“Did you believe she was onto something?”

“At the time? Nah, sounded like a bunch of nonsense to me. Now…I’m fairly convinced.”

“Why did she even wanna talk to you anyhow?”

“Her story and my case involved some of the same people; I think she thought I might have been involved in their shady dealings.”

“What’s your case?”

“None of the Homicide department’s business, as far as I know.”

He glared at me. “Barton.”

“Talk to Rogers if you really wanna know, but I don’t think it’s related to this.”

“Alright. I’ll look into what you’ve given me, see if it pans out.”

“ _Carefully_ ,” I said, “Christine nosed around and look what happened to her.”

“I’ll be careful, you little wiseass. Worry about yourself, huh?”

“Always.”

“Thanks, for this.” He waved the pad at me.

“Don’t thank me yet.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, giving the body one last look as I started up the hill.


	13. Chapter 13

I decided to lay low. If those military creeps were following Christine or happened to snatch her after our diner date, they might have seen me talking to her. And with my office getting trashed, it seemed like a good time to skulk home and pretend I was invisible. I spent the afternoon coming up with places a clever girl like Miss Everhart might have hidden her notes. She would have had a backup, maybe even a copy left with someone in case this exact situation played out. It wouldn’t be at her home or office, but where else could she go regularly without attracting suspicion? I didn’t know her well enough, and I didn’t want to start asking questions until the heat died down. But if I could get those notes I might be able to get the names of the army louts she was investigating and figure out who iced her.

I went to bed early with my gun under the pillow and my doors double-locked, and woke up feeling as creased as a week-old shirt. I dragged myself up and into some clothes, and made a dismal cup of coffee that I only half-drank before tipping the rest down the sink. It didn’t improve my mood. I was thinking about Stark – why would he send his pet singer to distract me if he had nothing to do with Darcy’s disappearance? Even if he’d set her up for his defence buddies to get rid of, there wasn’t much danger I could pin it on him without getting myself offed in the process.

And Rushman had shown up just after I discovered the mess in my office. That was a pretty big coincidence. She seemed a bit dainty to be causing that much damage, but I knew there was more to her than the soft exterior. Maybe the army hadn’t been the ones rummaging through my things. Maybe Hammer wasn’t the only one hiring handsome young ladies for his dirty work.

Hell, I thought as I got in the elevator, maybe she was even sleeping with Stark. She’d admitted she got private invites up to the manor, she was gorgeous, and jealousy was certainly a good motive for cutting out the competition. It was a depressing thought. I didn’t want her to be the bad guy, even though I knew she was no damsel in distress. Still, it was a theory that warranted looking into, and since I was stumped on the Everhart angle I drove over to City Hall.

*****

Smoke hung in tendrils above the tables, every seat full as the patrons talked too loudly and sloshed their drinks. A lot of the clientele were guys in hundred dollar suits with the occasional broad, but all the women were too brash, their hair too bleached and their lips too red. They were trying to keep up with the entertainment and failing.

Natalie was centre stage in a midnight blue sequinned gown with a sweetheart neck that clung to her like honey to a spoon. Her hair was a scarlet curtain across half her face, the waves flowing down over her shoulder. She held the microphone in one white-gloved hand and gave the audience a smile that would have gotten her kicked out of Sunday school.

I flicked the lapel on my jacket up as I passed the bar, avoiding the barkeep’s eye. I wanted to see if Miss Rushman was really expecting me, or if I’d be an unpleasant surprise. There were people standing around the edges of the room, and I weaved my way through until I was close to the front. The band were belting it out but they slowed, going quiet as Natalie leaned in to the mic.

She could sing, well enough that she could have been more famous if she’d wanted – especially with those looks. I watched the way the room reacted as she crooned out the verse, all the men drifting forwards in their seats like she was pulling them in. They should have made posters of her as a Greek siren. I kept my eyes on her, waiting for any sign she’d spotted me in the crowd.

I had to wait a whole song and half of another, but finally she met my gaze, the huge smile that broke across her face giving it away. She winked at me and I nodded, turning back towards the bar. She’d find me when the set was over.

I spent about fifteen minutes sipping a Scotch and staring down the barman every time he shot me a dirty look, and then the music stopped.

“We’ll be right back after this short break, folks, so refill your glasses and relax.”

I caught Natalie’s eye and she smiled, jerking her head towards a door to the right of the stage before walking into the wings. I downed the rest of my drink and made my way over, trying the handle. It was unlocked.

There was a short passage on the other side, with some steps up to the stage on my left and storage space along the wall to my right. I followed it around a corner and found a dressing room with the door open, Natalie sitting at the vanity with a cigarette between her teeth. She lit it with a porcelain lighter, taking a drag before smirking at me.

“Well hi, Mr Hurricane. Glad to see you’re done playing hard to get.”

“May I?” I waved a hand at the door.

She licked her lip. “Will I be sorry later if I say yes?”

“Perhaps, but you won’t know if you don’t give me a shot.”

“Come in then.”

I closed the door behind me, twisting the lock. Her brows arched prettily.

“Right to the point, huh? Intermission’s only ten minutes, honey, so unless you’re about to disappoint me...”

I leaned against the wall, putting myself between her and the door but out of arm’s reach. “I made a very long, boring trip to City Hall today.”

“My commiserations.”

“See it struck me as odd how hard it was for the police to get hold of you when they were trying to investigate Darcy’s disappearance. Especially given that your name is all over the front of this club.”

“I’m no Fitzgerald or Holiday, Mr Barton.” She said.

“You’re not a Rushman either.”

She twirled her fingers through the cigarette smoke, eyes glinting in the light as she studied me. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I started thinking, what if Natalie was never home because she doesn’t actually live there? What if she’s got a hidey hole someplace? Why would she need one?”

“I’m a very busy woman. No mystery there.”

I grabbed a stool and sat, eyes level with hers. “I found there is no Natalie Rushman listed for tax, voting or census purposes in the city of Los Angeles. She doesn’t have a driver’s licence or a passport either, not even a library card. Isn’t that the damnedest thing?”

“It’s a stage name.”

“I don’t doubt that. What I’m more interested in, is your real one.”

She took another puff, blowing the smoke straight up. “Am I your new case now, Clint?”

“I paid a visit to your landlady, who claims she hasn’t seen you since you signed the lease – just your monthly cheques. She was nice enough to show me one.”

“My, you’ve had a productive day.”

“One of the clerks at your bank owes me a favour or two, and was nice enough to confirm that your account is only used to pay those rent instalments. No other withdrawals, just once a month a cash deposit that gets sent out again a week later. That’s a tidy little system.”

She didn’t say anything, watching me impassively.

“Wanna tell me why you don’t exist?”

“Isn’t that what this town’s all about?” she grinned sarcastically, “Reinventing yourself? Selling a dream?”

“Are you Stark’s mistress?”

She pursed her lips. “Oh Clint. Are you jealous?”

“I might be, if that’s the case.”

“Well I’m not. I’m friends with Miss Potts, after all. It would be terribly bad business to get between them for a meaningless fling.”

“Did you break into my office?”

“No. Why would I want to?”

“Right now I don’t know who you are or what you’re capable of.” I said.

She stubbed out her cigarette and curled a hand in my jacket, pulling me close. “I could show you, if you like.”

“No thanks, doll. I’m afraid of what I’d be signing up for.”

She pouted, sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest. I ran my tongue along the inside of my teeth.

“You’re not gonna tell me anything, are you?”

“I’m not the one you should be interrogating, Mr Barton. I’m just a lounge singer.”

I shook my head and got up, unlocking the door. I knew it was pointless, but I paused with one foot outside.

“What’s your real name?”

“Dottie Underwood.” She said without taking a breath.

I laughed, still shaking my head as I walked out.


	14. Chapter 14

I felt like I’d barely gotten into bed when my phone started ringing. I hauled myself up and grabbed the receiver, clearing my throat as I answered.

“Hello?”

“Barton, it’s Rogers,” the captain said, “You need to get over here right away. I think we’ve found your girl.”

My heart lurched in my chest. “Where?”

“Canoga Park, at the Hammer Industries research facility.”

“Jesus, somebody has it in for that guy.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m on my way.”

I hung up, rubbing my face in my hands. The best I could hope was that it was some other poor girl, but in all the time I’d known him Rogers had never been wrong about an I.D. Feeling tired and old, I got dressed and drove the empty early morning streets to Canoga Park.

The place was more farmland than industry, but Hammer had banked on that to get himself some privacy from Stark. He’d bought up a heap of fields and started building a huge warehouse and weapons testing range. There was a high barb-wire fence around the perimeter, and when I got to the gate a group of cops and Hammer Industries guards stood on opposite sides of the road, glaring at each other. I rolled down the window.

“Clint Barton, here to see Captain Rogers.”

One of the officers nodded. “I’ll escort you, sir. This place is bigger than most airports.”

He opened the passenger door and slid in beside me, the two of us trundling past the half-erected buildings and stacks of steel girders.

“Just a left up here.” He pointed.

I followed the direction, coming to a wide open pit. More men stood around the edge, Rogers among them. I stopped and nodded a thanks to my guide before getting out and leaving him to find his own way back.

Rogers looked up as I got closer. “Barton. I’m sorry about this-”

“It’s fine. Show me the body.”

He nodded solemnly and led me down a dirt ramp. There was a small figure at the bottom, crumpled and filthy, but I could make out the silver satin of her dress. I pinched my nose with a choice word and crouched to get a better look.

“Is it her?” Rogers asked.

I lifted one tangled curl away from her face and nodded. “Yeah. Matches the picture perfectly.”

“Damn it.” He clenched his fists.

“Who found her?”

“Diggers, when they started this morning.”

“How long have they been working on the pit?”

“Two weeks.”

“Well she hasn’t been here that long.” I shook my head.

“No, I don’t think she has.” He said.

“Which means somebody dumped her last night, maybe the night before.”

“Hammer? It’s his property.”

“Exactly – he wouldn’t want her being found here. No, if he was going to hide a corpse in his construction he’d have waited until they’d finished digging and put her under a concrete slab. This is someone who wants us to think it’s Hammer.”

“Stark.” The captain spat.

“Probably,” I tilted my head, “But then maybe not. He was looking for Darcy until recently.”

“Unless he only said he was looking to slow down our investigation. He might have known where she was the whole time.”

“It’s a possibility.” I straightened.

It might even have been the best possibility. I didn’t see the army trying to set Hammer up for murder if he was one of their buddies, which put my suspicions firmly back on Stark.

“Cause of death?” I asked.

“Nothing obvious. I’ll give you a call once the coroner’s had a look.”

“I appreciate it. I’d better go tell my client.”

Steve gave me a sympathetic look. “Give Miss Carter my condolences.”

“I’d settle for giving her justice, but we’ll see how it goes.”

*****

For the second time in a week I pulled my car into the drive at Stark Manor. The gate guard gave me a gimlet eye but I didn’t have time for his posturing bulldust.

“Open up, Ali Baba. Mr Stark and I have things to discuss.”

“Do you have an-”

“If he’d prefer to wait for the cops to get here, that’s fine by me.”

The muscle frowned but opened the gates, and I shot through. I parked in front of the house this time, not giving a damn if it wasn’t proper. I banged on the door until the stiff-lipped butler answered.

“Mr Barton-”

“I need to see your boss.”

“Mr Stark is in a meeting right now-”

“Well unless he’s meeting with the President, I’m gonna have to insist he finishes early.”

Jarvis scowled at me. “If you continue to be difficult, I shall have security remove you from the premises.”

“Tony Stark is going to be staring down the barrel of a murder charge if he doesn’t explain himself to me, understood?”

His face took on a pinched expression. “Very well. Follow me.”

He led me into the house and down some well-decorated halls to a heavy oak door. The butler knocked and waited for Stark’s call to open it. It was a study, though not the usual bookcase-lined solemn room I’d expected. Instead there were silver workbenches around the walls, and machines I didn’t recognise. Stark was in his shirtsleeves and braces, sitting on a stool talking to a dark guy in a green military uniform as he flipped a spanner in his hand.

“Excuse me sir, my profoundest apologies, but Mr Barton is here to see you.” Jarvis said.

Stark raised a brow at me, but something in my face must have told him how serious I was. He nodded.

“I can give him five minutes, if Rhodey doesn’t mind waiting?”

“Not at all.” the other man said.

“Colonel Rhodes, may I show you to the salon?” Jarvis bowed his head.

“Only if you make me one of your famous martinis.”

“I shall happily oblige.”

He stood and started walking towards the door. I stuck a hand out to stop him.

“Colonel, is it?”

“That’s right.”

“Unusual rank for a man of your colour, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

He sneered. “I’m used to it.”

“Enjoy your drink.”

He huffed under his breath and shot Tony a look before leaving with Jarvis.

“Nice guy,” I said flatly, “Your contract liaison?”

“From time to time, but mostly a friend.”

“I can’t imagine there’s any conflict of interest there.” I drawled.

Stark tossed his spanner aside. “What are you doing here _again_ , oh intrepid Barton?”

“I just came from telling Sharon Carter her sister’s dead.”

He paused, scornful look fading. “They found a body?”

“Early this morning. I’m hoping you’re gonna tell me you had nothing to do with it.”

“Of course not.”

“See, it’s just not believable, Stark. All the evidence seems to point to you: you were sleeping with her, she was spying on you for a rival, she disappears at a party at your house and turns up weeks later at the Hammer Industries construction site. I just don’t see why anyone else would want her dead and be that sloppy about it.”

“Oh but you’d believe _I_ was so obvious? I’m a goddamn genius, Barton. If I’d wanted Darcy dead – and I didn’t – you wouldn’t be in my face right now slinging accusations, because I wouldn’t have been dumb enough to leave a trail back to me.”

“Miss Carter doesn’t seem to agree. I had to talk her out of coming up here and taking it out of your flesh. The police should be by soon too.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he spread his arms, “I had nothing to do with it.”

“What about your pal Colonel Rhodes?”

“What?” he stared.

“He didn’t think Darcy was a threat?”

“He never even met her!”

“What about Christine Everhart?”

Stark’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know about Christine Everhart?”

“I know she was also investigating you, and now she’s dead too. Mighty interesting coincidence.”

“She showed up at my office with some wafer-thin allegations of bribery, and I told her what I’m telling you – it’s not illegal, honey. I didn’t give two hoots about the woman.”

“But then there’s Killian, whose tragic accident was so soon after the police started sniffing around looking for Darcy. Three bodies, all acquaintances or better, in five days. Being your friend is a dangerous business, Mr Stark.”

“Someone’s setting me up!” he snapped, “Go talk to Hammer, this has that idiot’s name written all over it.”

“I might go see him. I might go see Natalie Rushman too. She _is_ working for you, isn’t she?”

Stark scoffed. “She sings at the house sometimes. Unlike Hammer, I don’t use women to fight battles.”

“You just use them and lose them, right?” I smiled grimly.

“Now listen here-”

“You haven’t spent one second being sorry she’s dead, have you? You’re a piece of work, Stark.”

“Maybe,” he clenched his jaw, “But that’s all I’m guilty of.”

“If I was you, I’d call one of my fancy lawyers over. The homicide squad should be here any minute.”

I stomped out of the room, angry and disappointed and confused. It had to be Stark, unless Hammer was trying to cover his ass by making it look like someone was framing him? I still hadn’t ruled out Colonel Rhodes and his colleagues either, but it didn’t feel right. They’d dumped Christine by the road because they knew they were untouchable and didn’t care if she was found; Darcy had been missing for weeks and suddenly showed up in one of the last places a military contractor would want her found. It _had_ to be Stark, but all I had was circumstantial evidence and a gut feeling that the guy might be a heartless brat, but he wasn’t a murderer. Killing Darcy for spying on him would imply he was personally offended, and I doubted he cared enough about any of his women for that.

He cared about one woman though.

I paused just before the front door, backtracking to the stairs and lighted up them as quietly as possible. The place was huge and I had no idea where I was going, but I listened out and thought I heard soft music. I followed it, moving quicker as I made out the melody of a record player. I reached the end of the hall and knocked softly, glancing over my shoulder.

“Come in!”

I opened the door. It was a sun room, a couple of big white couches arranged on opposite sides of a coffee table, long French doors on two sides open to the breeze and a terrace beyond. Miss Potts sat reading on one of the chaises in a long white dress, and she frowned when she saw me.

“Oh, I thought you were Jarvis.”

“I won’t bother you long, Miss Potts. Just wondered if we could talk sometime – tomorrow maybe, or tonight?”

“Why not now?” she said.

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt. And, uh, I think it’s better if your fiancé’s not around.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I just have some questions for you about Tony, and about Darcy Lewis.”

“I don’t see why we can’t sort this out now. I don’t think I have any information for you – really, I barely knew Miss Lewis.”

I took out one of my cards and handed it to her. “Please Miss Potts, I’m just trying to give Darcy’s sister some peace of mind. You might be able to help.”

“Alright. Where should I meet you?”

“Somewhere private, if that suits. There’s a hotel downtown, the Cavalier? We’ll meet in the bar there.”

“I can be there at nine tonight.”

“I’ll be waiting. Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Potts.”

“Anything I can do, Mr Barton.”


	15. Chapter 15

The Cavalier was a dreary kind of place, too low class for Stark or his cronies but nice enough to take a lady like Pepper. The bar was a small dark room with booths tucked into the walls for privacy. I got a drink and a spot where I could see the door. There were only two or three patrons, a couple sitting at the bar and an old guy alone at a table by the opposite wall, and none of them were paying attention to me.

I was early, but not by much. I sipped my drink silently and waited, but by quarter past there was still no sign of Miss Potts. A concierge came in from reception and glanced around, heading towards me.

“Excuse me sir, are you Mr Barton?”

“That’d be me.”

He held out a white notecard. “I have a message for you.”

I took it and tipped him a quarter, waiting for him to leave before opening it.

_Apologies Mr Barton, I have been held up at the house. I’ll call you at your office tomorrow._

I crumpled the paper and shoved it in my pocket, draining the dregs of my glass. I could only hope Stark hadn’t gotten to her, or my one chance to talk to an insider was blown before it began. I should have taken her offer and asked my questions earlier in the day.

I drove home, checking my rear view mirror often in case I’d picked up a tail, but there was no one. I parked on the building garage and went up, hanging my hat on the hook by the door as I shed my jacket. I unbuttoned my shirt and turned the bathroom light on, splashing my face and neck in the sink. It was too late to be so hot, the air muggy in my tiny apartment. I slid my braces off my shoulders, feeling too constricted.

The phone rang. I glanced at my clock and raised a brow, padding through the dark lounge to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Barton, it’s Rogers. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Twice in one day would be too good a trick. What’s up?”

“Barnes slipped me the preliminary autopsy results on Miss Lewis, if you wanna hear ‘em.”

“Shoot.”

I heard pages rustling. “Dr Banner says she’s been dead probably since the night of the party.”

“But that’s two weeks,” I said, “In this stinking hot weather, she should be mostly decomposed by now.”

“There’s evidence of frost damage to the tissue in her extremities. The killer probably froze her body until he could get rid of it discreetly.”

“Christ. In what?”

“Commercial freezer? I don’t know. You want me to continue?”

“Yeah sure, sorry.” I said quickly.

“Cause of death is asphyxiation. No marks on her neck though, so Bruce is guessing she was smothered.”

“On purpose or accidentally?”

“Too hard to tell. She’s got some skin under her fingernails, so it looks like she fought back, but that doesn’t mean the culprit meant to kill her. She doesn’t have any other bruises or lacerations.”

“Go on.”

“Tox report’s going to take a couple of days, and it’s probably going to be useless if the body’s as old as it is. They’re checking her hair though, so we’ll get an idea of any long-term substance use. Speaking of which, I also got the tox screen for Killian Aldrich.”

“Oh yeah? Anything attention-grabbing?”

“Alcohol, obviously, and barbiturates. He didn’t have a prescription.”

“Huh.” I said.

“There’s something else you should know about Miss Lewis, Clint. I don’t really know how to say it.”

“Just spit it out, Rogers.”

“She was in the family way.”

“What are ya talkin’ about?” I scowled.

There was a knock at the door, sharp enough to make me jump.

“Hang on, I’ve got company.”

“This late?”

“Apparently it’s the new social hour. Two minutes.”

“I still wanna go over this.”

“We will, just let me get the door.” I said, putting down the receiver.

I went into the bedroom and grabbed my gun, holding it low against my leg. I stood against the wall by the door, just in case someone started throwing slugs into the wood.

“Who is it?”

“Mr Barton, it’s Pepper Potts. Please, you have to help me!”

I tucked the gun into my waistband and undid the bolts, opening the door. She was standing there crying into a handkerchief, mascara smudged on her cheeks.

“Are you alright?”

“It’s Tony,” she sobbed, “He saw your card on my dresser and went ballistic. I thought he was going to kill me!”

I glanced down the hall, ushering her in with a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Sit down and I’ll make us something cool to drink, and you can tell me what happened.”

“He was raving like a madman. I’ve never seen him like that,” she sniffed, “God, I was so frightened.”

I bolted the door again, waving her towards the couch. She didn’t move, staring at me tearfully. I rubbed the back of my head, not sure what to do. I haven’t had to comfort many crying dames.

“Look, you’re safe here.”

“Really?”

“As safe as anywhere else. I’ll call my friend at the station and have him come over. We can get a statement from you, find somewhere for you to stay-”

She threw her arms around me, weeping into my shoulder. “Oh thank you! I knew you’d know what to do.”

I patted her back clumsily. “It’s dumb luck, really. Everyone seems to think I’m smarter than I am.”

She stepped back quickly, raising my own gun at me. “Oh I don’t know, Mr Barton. I think you’re far too clever.”

The tears had stopped now, her expression solemn and steady. I pressed my tongue against my cheek and chuckled.

“I shoulda known. Girl as pretty as you wouldn’t show up on my doorstep at ten o’clock at night with good intentions.”

She flicked the barrel at me. “Hands up.”

I raised them lazily. “What’s the game plan here, huh?”

“Walk to the couch, nice and slow.”

I stayed where I was. She gave an exasperated sigh and clicked the safety off.

“Or I could just shoot you now.”

“Seems like you’re gonna shoot me sooner or later anyway.”

“I don’t have to shoot to kill.” Her gaze narrowed.

I walked backwards, careful not to trip on anything, and perched on the edge of the cushion. “You killed Darcy.”

“First prize to the nosy detective. Took you long enough.”

“I didn’t have the most important piece of the puzzle. She saw her doctor the day before the party, and he told her what my buddy just told me. Your fiancé knocked her up.”

“For the greatest scientific mind in the country, that man can be a complete fool.” Pepper shook her head.

“Did she tell him at the party?”

“She was going to. She came into the den looking for him, and when she saw me she just blurted it out. Little idiot.”

“And you saw a threat. You don’t care about Stark’s other women because none of them ever last, but a baby doesn’t go away after a couple of months.”

“Can you imagine the scandal?” she shuddered, “We would never have been rid of her.”

“So what, you just picked up a throw pillow and jammed it over her face?”

“I was protecting Tony.”

“Bullshit,” I laughed, “You were protecting his fat stacks of cash.”

“He’s too brilliant to throw his reputation down the drain over some young tramp who didn’t know how to handle herself.”

“You sent Natalie to distract me and see how close I was to figuring it out. Maybe to trash the office too?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, not me.”

I stuck my top lip out. The G.Is were looking through my business after all. “How’d you get the body past Stark’s security?”

“Natasha dragged her out to a cab and told the driver she’d had too much to drink.”

“It’s Natasha now? Wow, you two must be close for her to drop the stage name. I couldn’t get her to open up, and she insisted we had a connection.” I said.

“Don’t feel too bad, Mr Barton. Natasha isn’t the sharing type.”

I leaned back, breaking into a smile. “Ah. I think I’m beginning to understand her empty apartment.”

“Go on?”

“I thought Stark might have her stashed away somewhere as a kept woman, but it’s you. You and her…”

Pepper shrugged. “It’s Los Angeles, Mr Barton. All manner of tastes can be catered to.”

“No wonder you didn’t mind Tony steppin’ out on you.”

“He’s got appetites I prefer he sate elsewhere. We have an understanding.”

“Does he know you killed Darcy?”

“No. And that’s the truth.”

“Does Natasha know you’re here?”

“I didn’t want to worry her.”

“Sweet of you. Where did Killian come in?” I said.

“Killian was a great admirer of mine. He saw Darcy and Tony together and thought it was his duty to tell me. I couldn’t have him sharing that information with the police.”

 “So Natasha got herself an invite to his place, drugged him, and staged the ‘accident’.”

“I was almost sorry about that, but really he brought it on himself.”

“How are you planning to cover up this murder?”

“I thought Justin Hammer would be an excellent culprit for the whole debacle, really.”

“You’re doing a terrible job framing him.”

“He’s such a ham-handed dunce the cops will believe it – especially when Tony denies his involvement.”

“You’ve got it all worked out, huh? You’re gonna set up Hammer – who, don’t get me wrong, probably deserves it – and skip off to your fairytale sham wedding with the most famous rich playboy in a town full of famous rich playboys. You keep your secret, Tony gets to fool around, and you never have to worry about being caught out because people with that kind of money don’t get arrested for deviancy.”

“I like Tony, I really do. I’m sure it all seems very cold to you but we’re best friends.” Pepper said.

“So close you’ll kill anyone that gets between you? You’re great pals.”

“He understands how committed I am to this relationship.”

“Did he slap that diamond on your finger before or after you murdered his baby?”

Her cheeks flushed, fingers tightening around the hilt of the gun. “It all looks so black and white to you, doesn’t it? You’ve never had to hide who you are.”

“You think you know me well enough to make that statement?”

She brought her other hand up to grip the gun with both, taking a breath. “I’m sorry you got tangled up in this.”

“No you’re not.” I laughed.

She took another breath, fingers twitching near the trigger. Suddenly there was a bang on the door that echoed through the apartment. Pepper flinched.

“Los Angeles police department, open up!”

Her eyes went huge. I clucked my tongue against my teeth, tilting my head with a sympathetic look as I stood.

“Now I’m sorry. I haven’t really been giving you my undivided attention. See, I was on the phone to my acquaintance Captain Rogers when you knocked.”

I walked over to the phone, picking the receiver up off the table.

“And I guess in the confusion I forgot to hang up.”

“Ma’am, open the door or we will break it down!” the cop shouted again.

“You’re trapped, Miss Potts. Might as well put that gun down – Tony can probably save you from the chair for one murder, if he can get past what you’ve done, but a second? In front of the police?”

“You piece of-”

“You said it yourself. I’m too clever sometimes.”

The door cracked as someone shoved against it and her eyes darted to the bulging frame, limbs trembling.

“Game’s over, princess. Why don’t we let them in?”

She bit her lip as they rammed the door again. She was getting teary again, screwing up her eyes as she struggled to keep the gun up.

“Oh god.”

“Just put the gun down, nice and easy, and we’ll all walk out of here like friends.”

She looked at me, white and shaking, all trace of composure gone except one last glint in her gaze.

“Tell them both I’m sorry, would you?”

“Wait-”

The door crashed open with one last thud as she put the gun to her temple and pulled the trigger.


	16. Chapter 16

I wiped a hand over my face and sighed, leaning back in my chair. Steve sat down beside me, holding out a paper cup.

“It’s only stationhouse coffee, but it’ll keep you from passing out in your chair.”

“Thanks.” I took it.

“You alright, kid?”

I shrugged, swigging my joe. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Not so close, though.”

“You’d be surprised.”

He sipped his own coffee, ruffling his hair with the other hand. “Stark’s gonna make us bury it.”

“That’s why she did it,” I said flatly, “No trial, no story in the papers, and her beloved Tony gets by without a single smear next to his name. He can even play it for sympathy.”

“She really did care about him.”

I shook my head. “Maybe. I dunno. She certainly didn’t care enough to let him decide what to do about Darcy and the baby.”

We sat in silence, listening to the late-night sounds of the station. Steve looked half as tired as I felt. All I wanted to do was sleep but I didn’t want to go back to the apartment – maybe ever – and eventually I’d have to go see Sharon Carter and tell her the truth.

“Thanks, by the way. For saving my bacon.”

“Good thing you didn’t hang up.”

“I knew if I kept her talkin’, you’d eventually rush in to save my ass.”

“If there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s talking.” Rogers rolled his eyes.

“It’s a gift.”

“What are you gonna do now?”

I leaned forward on my knees, grinding my teeth. Barnes was looking into Christine Everhart’s death, and I trusted him to get further than I could – if there was a way to catch her murderer without bringing it back on himself, he would. He might even be able to hit Stark while he was rattled and get some good information.

There was just one last loose thread to snip.

“Can you lend me a couple of officers?”

“Now?” Steve frowned.

“I don’t think it’ll wait.”

*****

I knocked quietly, conscious of the neighbours. There were a couple of lights on inside, but no one answered until I was getting ready to knock again. The door opened, Natasha standing there in a black satin robe with her hair down around her shoulders. Her smile disappeared when she saw me.

“Mind if I come in?”

“I do, actually.”

“We could talk out here but I don’t think you want the other tenants to see you in your night things.”

She turned, walking back inside. I followed, closing the door softly. She went straight to the bar, pouring one glass from a nice decanter and downing it, eyes fixed on me.

“What, no refreshments for a guest? Where’d you learn your manners, Natasha?”

“Stalingrad.” She said, voice suddenly thick and accented.

“Russian? I didn’t pick that one.”

“I’ve been here a long time. How did you find me?”

“I figured if Pepper was staying at Tony’s, then who was staying at Pepper’s? You certainly weren’t sleeping at your own apartment.”

“That’s good reasoning.” She smiled.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

“Well you know my real name, so I’m guessing you spoke to Pepper.”

“She told me everything. Darcy, the pregnancy, Killian – you.”

She raised her brows slowly, eyes going innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s late, doll. Let’s not play that game.”

“Where’s Pepper?”

I met her gaze grimly. “Where the law can’t touch her.”

Her hand tightened around the decanter’s neck. “Be straight with me, Clint.”

“She took the easy way out and stuck you with her tab.”

“She wouldn’t.” the redhead whispered.

“Didn’t even ask me to give you the news.” I kept my voice cold.

Natasha put her glass down hard and walked around the counter, sashaying towards me. “But you did anyway. Why? Did you think watching me fall apart would soothe your bruised ego?”

“My ego’s just fine. I’m not a jealous man, sweetheart.”

“Then what? Do you expect me to be grateful?”

“I don’t expect anything, it just gets you disappointment.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder, trailing it down my chest. “Then maybe you’re here to warn me?”

“Leaving town would be a good idea. I don’t think you’re a bad person, Natasha – you just got caught up in the whirlwind around Stark. You thought you were doing the right thing, I’m sure.”

She smiled sadly. “You find yourself doing strange things for love.”

“So they tell me.”

“You should come with me.”

“What for?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think we’d get along just fine. Watch each other’s backs. Have some laughs.”

I took her hands in mine. “That sounds grand.”

“You won’t come though, will you?” she said quietly.

“I wish I could. Boys?”

The door opened and a couple of lawmen stepped inside, hands on their belts. Natasha looked them over and nodded, smiling ruefully at me.

“I really do like you. I wasn’t lying about any of that.”

“And I really do think you’re a great gal. You’re smart, you’re gorgeous, and you deserve better than this. But I can’t help ya.”

“Oh well. Thanks for thinking of me, I guess.”

“Any time, doll.”

She let go of me, wrapping her robe tighter around herself as she turned to face the cops. One stepped forward, reaching for his cuffs.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Miss Natasha is going to cooperate.” I held up my hand.

She glanced back at me. “I’ll do my best.”

“Look after yourself, darlin’.”

“And you, Clint Barton. You’ve got a real head for trouble. Try not to get it blown off.”

She blew me a kiss and let the officers escort her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an little optional epilogue after this, for those of you who want to end it on a lighter note than your typical bittersweet noir.


	17. Epilogue?

I sat back from my desk, running an ice block across the back of my neck. The weather was refusing to give up, trying to melt me in my sticky vinyl seat. I had no customers, I was running out of money, and I’d finished the day’s crossword two hours ago.

The phone rang and I pounced on it, hoping for an excuse to get out in the air and catch any hint of a breeze.

“Hawkeye Investigations.”

“Barton, it’s Rogers.”

“Hey pal. What’s up?”

“I figured I ought to call you. You remember Natasha Romanov?”

Did I ever. “Sure. What about her?”

“She’s escaped from county lockup.”

A smile spread across my face as I leaned down in my chair. “How’d she manage that?”

“I don’t know – the commissioner’s gonna have some heads, that’s for damn sure. I just thought you should know.”

I cleared my throat, sitting up. “Well I guess we can’t win ‘em all, huh?”

“They’ll find her. Every cop in the city’s out looking.”

“Need any help from the private sector?”

“Maybe it’s better if you let us handle our own mess, Clint.”

“Sure. Whatever you like, big guy. Give me an update tonight?”

“If you like.”

“Good hunting.”

“Thanks.” He hung up.

I put the receiver back and stood, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair and my gun from the drawer. Nothing like a good case to put the spring back in a guy’s step.


End file.
